Years Later
by S.L.Cipher
Summary: Everyone changes with time. A day, a week, a month, a year... they all count. So how much can a group of rag tag 4th graders from P.S. 118 change with junior high, highschool, and a whole bunch of history between those seven years? A whole lot.
1. Playing Catch Up

Everyone changes with time. A day, a week, a month, a year... they all count. So how much can a group of rag tag 4th graders from P.S. 118 change with junior high, high school, and a whole bunch of history between those seven years? A whole lot.

**Years Later**

_Playing Catch Up_

_BEEP!_

_BEEP!_

_BEEP!_

_BEEP!_

"Turn off that damn alarm!" Bob Pataki yelled from his favorite couch, downstairs in the family room.

Helga Geraldine Pataki wiggled underneath the warmth of her pink blanket before cautiously slipping one hand out from beneath its warm haven to slam the '_off'_ button on her alarm clock. Groggily, the teen rolled her legs off of her bed, letting her feet land on the cool wooden floor before she actually got out of her bed. She slipped on her Pink Panther slippers and shuffled to her closet only to haphazardly pull out an outfit for the beginning of the school year.

It was the same old thing, the same old way, but a different school year, although that did not mean that the same old routine did not apply.

She was making her way to the door leading to hallway when she passed her mirror and caught a glimpse of her reflection. She was sixteen and Helga could now see that she was taking a strong resemblance to a mixture between Olga and her mother when she was her age, the pre-Big Bob era. The Olga part irritated her, but something about looking like her mother when she was strong-willed flower child had its appeal… especially when it was combined with Helga's bubblegum pink streaks in her blonde hair.

With her customary smirk set in its usual place, Helga and headed to Hilda's room. Helga knew she had to go and get the first grader ready for school to drop her off at the early school club; after all, Big Bob would never raise a hand to help either of his two younger daughters. If Helga did not get Hilda ready for school, the girl would sleep in all day while Bob sat on the couch drinking alcohol in his potato like state or sat at a bar drinking alcohol in a potato like state. Either way it didn't matter, he simply wasn't apart of their lives, at least not in a positive factor.

It was almost a sad sight to see a man who once was believed to be invincible in such a wrecked state… almost.

He was all smiles when he found out that Miriam was pregnant with their third child, but when she died merely an hour after the delivery, Bob was in a constant state of brooding, occasionally turning to alcohol for comfort.

Olga moved in for a while to help with the baby, but when it came down to it, Helga was like Hilda's mother. A few years later, Olga moved out and got married to some young entrepreneur from a rich family, dropping the name Pataki and all ties with the name when she moved to Manhattan and began her career on Broadway. When Bob's business began to plummet due to the competition of _Crazy Ced's Cell Phone's_, drinking became his best friend and primary function.

The primary source of money coming into 1422 L Street was from Helga's job down at Patty's Diner, the short stories Helga managed to get published in small time magazines, and some money Helga had due to certain savings and investments she had made in junior high.

Helga opened the door of the room that used to be hers and smiled, Hilda slept in her bed, blissfully unaware of the world around her. Still innocent and wide eyed to the world, unlike her cynical and sarcastic older sister.

Same old thing, the same old day, basically, the same old way.

**(Y/L)**

Crinshaw High School was the center of Hillwood. It was a large high school made out of a mixture of tan and white bricks with three floors and a bell tower looming over the school, covered by what appeared to be a white glass dome. With its large and lush lawn surrounding the school and the school's perfect structure, Crinshaw High School was a picturesque image of what an All-American high school could and should be. Crinshaw High School was synonymous with Hillwood, even though Hillwood held three other high schools in its borders.

No, it wasn't because of the beautiful charming picture the school made.

And no, it definitely wasn't because academic achievements of Crinshaw, that was nearly off the charts compared to other high schools in the area.

No, the reasons above were certainly not the reasons why Hillwood along with Crinshaw was so well known, although, to many Crinshawnians, they were valid reasons why they should be. Oh no, the real reason why Crinshawnians were worshipped, as well as hated, by many was because of the Crinshaw High School Spartans, the Crinshawnian High School football team.

In every shop window around Hillwood, there was a red football schedule with bold black and white letters, as if the customers and the townsfolk actually needed help in remembering that their beloved Spartans played every Friday night.

The Crinshaw High Spartans Football team was worshiped and the players were _officially_ gods among men in Hillwood.

No other sport was revered as much as football was in Hillwood, no expense was spared to make sure that all the boys were comfortable, none of them ever failed a class and maintained a 'B' average, even if they never showed up to class at all.

If someone was involved with a club that was tied to the football team, like the cheerleading squad, the spirit club, or even the school news paper, then they would be fortunate enough to receive some funding and help. All other activities were pushed into the background.

It didn't matter that the Multi-Cultural Club could not go to Manhattan last year because the money they needed was used to give the football team an advanced weight room, it didn't matter that the football team traveled by chartered buses, while every academic club car pooled or chauffeured by parents, and it definitely did not matter that the baseball team needed its field fix while the football team had it two fields and surroundings fixed up every month, even during the off season.

No, it definitely didn't matter.

Football was King and the other sports were lesser monarchs, if they even could even be considered monarchs compared to the all powerful Football. The King of the Crinshawnian crown was why every September 5th, when the football players came in on the first day of school, they all received their much _deserved_ heroes' welcoming.

Gerald sped into the school parking lot not paying attention to the stares of admiration or the waves from people as he passed them by. He didn't even notice as people called out his name, no, he simply continued to drive until he spotted a group of familiar people. He drove up to were he could see Arnold, Lila, and Kamelia standing together on the sidewalk, obviously waiting for Gerald to walk up to them, only to be surprised that Mr. Johanssen arrived on wheels— four to be exact.

"Like my new ride?" He asked them when they finally noticed him.

Arnold looked at the dark blue Mitsubishi Eclipse Spyder in shock. "How the hell did you get that? Did you steal it off the streets Johanssen?"

"My dad decided to buy it for me after my heroic, game-winning touchdown during the Grater Tournament. He gave it to me yesterday as an_ early_ birthday." Gerald said with a large smile on his face. "Do you think that if I play that well the winter and tournament season he'll buy me some rims to go with the car for senior year?"

Arnold only smiled at him as he ran a hand through his blonde hair. "Maybe, of maybe he'll just buy you a new car with new rims. I'll take yours if you don't need it."

Kamelia walked over to Gerald's car and playfully shoved Arnold out of her way before leaning into the car window. "Hey, enough with the car talk boys." The brunette pouted her dark caramel colored lips. "Gerald is forgetting to greet his girlfriend that he hasn't seen in seven whole hours."

"Hey Kammie," He smiled and tugged on one of her long wavy locks.

Kamelia swatted Gerald's hand from their hold on her hair. "What did I tell you about tugging on my hair, Mr. Joh—?"

Gerald pecked Kamelia on her lips. "I've missed you, _Smurfette_."

Smiling, Kamelia returned Gerald's kiss, "That's more like it, Mr. Football- Star-Running-Back. However I do remember telling you not to call me _Smurfette_."

Meanwhile, Lila walked over to where Arnold was standing, snuggling close to him as he put and arm around her waist. "You know Kammie, your boyfriend isn't the only football star." Lila said with a jokingly condescending voice, "My Arnold so happens to be the Spartans' all-American quarterback, who so happens to throw the football to Gerald so he can make those spectacular touchdowns."

Kamelia smiled at Lila, Lila smile at Kamelia as Arnold and Gerald traded a pair of grins.

It was the same old thing, the same old talk, the same old way. It was simply the same.

Arnold unintentionally tugged on his black, red, and white varsity Spartans football jacket. In fourth grade the Spartans never seemed important to any of the boys of P.S. 118. Once they had their junior high school orientation in 6th grade and learned about both the junior high and the high school, the only two words in the boys' vocabulary were football and Spartans.

In junior high, Arnold, Sid, Iggy, Park, Harold, Stinky, and Gerald made it onto the junior varsity football team. The team was great, the games were grueling, and the practices were damn near impossible to live through. Unfortunately or maybe fortunately, that was only a training ground for the varsity football team of Crinshaw High School. In high school, only Arnold, Sid, Harold, and Gerald made it onto the football team. They were not surprised to find that Wolfgang was already on the team, but the real shock was that the group was able to get past their differences to become a close knitted group of friends.

Arnold Linshaw was known as the all-American quarterback with a golden arm and fast feet. Number twenty of the Spartans. He now stood a six foot and one inch and was very proud of the muscles he gained from all of the football training. Fortunately, his blonde hair no longer resembled an upside broom. He still had the signature had droopy blue eyes, but he now had a stud in his right ear just like Gerald, Wolfgang, Harold, and Sid did- it was a stupid spur of the moment thing they did while they were in another town in the summer. And Mr. Linshaw was the proud boyfriend of the girlfriend of his dreams, Lila Sawyer, one of the co-captains of the Spartans' cheerleaders.

Gerald Johanssen, number ten of the team, could always be counted on to convert the passes that Arnold threw him into points for the Spartans. Arnold usually threw the ball to him or Sid, they were the go to receivers on the team. Back in seventh grade he traded in his high top for a simple crew cut, and maybe that's why he was able to snag Kamelia Alba, the second Spartan cheerleader co-captain, as his girlfriend after going on a few isolated dates during ninth grade, before making it official in towards the end of tenth grade.

Sid Gifaldi, number nineteen, was Arnold's other go to football receiver. He was tall with dark eyes, his dark brown hair touched his shoulder, and he still sported a leather jacket—which seemed to make even more appealing. Girls always talked about how drop dead gorgeous he was whenever he walked down a hallway and it seemed that many girls in Crinshaw had a crush on him. It was too bad he never noticed. While Arnold and Gerald tended to surround themselves with the popular crowd, Sid was seen everywhere talking to everyone, not bothering to care what their "_status_" was in the high school. To put it simply, Mr. Gifaldi was a social butterfly at its height.

Harold Berman and Wolfgang Caldwell, respectively numbers twenty-five and fifty-four, were two maniacal defensive linemen. They were absolutely crazy and unstoppable on the field, once they had their eyes on their prey. The only way the poor guy could get off the field was on a stretcher. Harold's girlfriend was Rhonda, the third and last co-captain of the Spartans' cheerleaders.

These five men-boys made up the highest echelon of the Spartan team, therefore, the gods of the gods, and were rightly dubbed _The Golden Ones_… after all, how could anyone see it any other way?

**(Y/L)**

Rhonda Wellington Lloyd picked the same locker she had last year in the Popular section of lockers on the second floor of Crinshaw. As thorough as ever, Rhonda matched from her red halter top to her low slung white jeans to the perfectly colored red and white sneakers, to the a red Gucci barrel shaped bag hanging off her shoulder. After all, she was a Wellington, and that was simply what a Wellington did. She took out her mirror from her custom made book bag and hung it in her locker to inspect her impeccable layered hair.

Each year, each student was assigned a specific locker and each year, each student took the locker of their choice. It was simply the way Crinshaw operated.

Once Rhonda decided that her shoulder length layered hair was perfect, she started to put up her pictures in the locker.

"Hey." Rhonda looked up to see Nadine Robinson, a girl who no one back in the days of P.S. 118 would ever dare to think would actually wear a mini skirt and a tight top to school, opening a locker next to hers.

In junior high, Rhonda gave Nadine an ultimatum. Either she had to stop hanging around with geeks, playing with spiders and bugs, and became a popular cheerleader, or stop being friends with Rhonda and stay a geek. Needless to say, Nadine chose the former of the two options. Immediately, she threw out her bug collection, took her curly hair out of its customary style to rest in the middle of her back, and let Rhonda take her shopping.

"Look, there's Lila, Kammie, and Kay." Nadine said, pointing to the two figures heading their way.

Lila's father struck it rich when she was in eighth grade with some weird investments which people thought would fail in two months. But it seemed that either Mr. Sawyer was either very lucky or some type of financial genius, because the money in the investments started to double, then triple, then quadruple... in other words Mr. Sawyer became rich.

Filthy stinking rich.

He took some of his money and put in other successful investments, before he began to pour money into more investments in Hillwood. Before anyone could guess it Mr. Sawyer was richer than rich and moved his daughter and himself to the rich side of Hillwood, adeptly nicknamed "_Hillywood"_.

Lila was instantly popular and became friends with The Fabulous Four—Kamelia, Rhonda, Kaylia, and Nadine. Afterwards, the group became known as The Fabulous Five, of course.

Kamelia and Kaylia Alba, identical twins down the beauty mark found on their pinkies, were introduced to the kids, or rather pre-teens, of P.S. 118 during the days of junior high school. Kamelia and Kaylia were from another part in Hillwood, so instead of going to P.S. 118, they attended Eugene K. Eriksson Elementary (Triple E for short). Even back then the two short Dominican girls were flirts— always flipping their shoulder length dark mahogany hair and batting their large hazel almond shaped eyes. Somehow, even though they were both identical and basically had the same personality, Kamelia had always been more popular than Kaylia, but, it seemed that Kaylia was definitely smarter than Kamelia. Kamelia and Kaylia, who were called Kammie and Kay-Kay by close friends, came from a very rich family; the Alba's had been in the jewelry business since the mid 1900s… so it came as no shock to the kids of P.S. 118 that Rhonda immediately befriended the two girls.

They were all cheerleaders—with Kamelia, Lila, and Rhonda as co-captains—and they were all popular, of course the fact that they all either knew or were dating The Golden Ones, didn't help boast their popularity _at all_.

The girls were all catching up on the latest gossip, as if they hadn't spent hours doing this the night before, when Kaylia caught sight of someone with blonde hair and pink streaks she elbowed Nadine who looked up and snickered then elbowed Rhonda, who elbowed Kamelia, who elbowed Lila.

"Freak alert." Nadine whispered to the other four girls. They all watched with arched eyebrows as Helga walked past them ignoring their whispers and comments. Helga G. Pataki was very much so unlike The Fabulous Five. Her two ears held at least twelve piercing holes combined, a silver necklace hanged from her neck, she had a tattoo on her right arm, and her bellybutton was pierced. She wore a pink wife beater with the Pink Panther smirking on it and had on slightly loose jeans with a worn pair of black sneakers. Her hair had two different lengths, one touched her shoulders, the other settled in the middle of her back. Two silver dangled from her pale neck, one, a semi-circle, the other was an insignia of some kind.

In lemans terms, she was different.

"Why doesn't that girl gain a fashion sense?" Lila said as she flipped her long auburn hair out of her face.

Rhonda snorted, "As if she could."

Kamelia laughed, "Oh please, Ronnie, she couldn't even afford to buy a fashion sense if wanted to."

Kaylia turned and gave her friends a _stern_ glare," Now, now all, we shouldn't be mean to those who are less fortunate than us," Smirking, she added. "After all, she is too far gone for even the fashion gods to save her."

Nadine giggled. "Well, at least now she has two eyebrows."

The Fabulous Five laughed in the same old way they had been laughing for the same old years of their high school career, but Helga kept walking ignoring the laughs that were definitely being thrown at. She stopped when she caught sight of a small Asian girl opening a locker in the same old place her locker had been since she entered to Crinshaw three years ago. Helga walked up to the girl, who did not turn around, but knew Helga was there. "I took the liberty of saving you your locker."

"In other word Vega, you stood here and glared at anyone who dared to touch my locker."

The smaller girl shrugged her shoulders delicately and fixed the rimless glasses that were slowly making their way down her nose, "And what if I did Blondie?" She said smirking at her best friend, "Are you going to relinquish your locker… let me know because I need to know what trade in I'm gonna be spending my year next to."

After seventh grade, Phoebe Heyerdahl did not grow a millimeter and she was stuck at her four foot and eleven and half inches height. This made one Phoebe G. Heyerdahl very pissed, after all she was a half an inch away from being five feet, and there was no one in their right minds that would not be pissed. She had four pierces in each of her ears, coincidentally they appeared at the same time Helga got some of her ear piercings. Her hair stretched to reach a few inches below her waist, and it was her crowning glory, no pun intended. For the last seven years she had let her hair grow and come high hell, she made sure her hair was okay, even if it meant freezing her own butt in the cold during a winter snow storm—notoriously known as the _Operation No-Snow-On- Prettiful-Hair-Incident_ by Phoebe and Helga.

Helga and Phoebe were leaning against their customary lockers of the _Nobody Wing_ of Crinshaw when Nadine, Kamelia, Rhonda, Lila, and Kaylia walked past them. The group of five threw dirty looks at Phoebe and Helga, making their faces look as if they had just gotten a whiff of the boys' locker room after a summer day practice. It just wasn't pretty. Of course, not to be out done, Helga and Phoebe returned the glares… with sunshine smiles and large over exaggerated waves.

"I hope we have just as much fun as we did last year!" Phoebe said with sugary sweet grin on her face, not bothering to acknowledge the fact The Fabulous Five's glares only seemed to darken.

Once they turned the corner to go down to the Language Arts Wing, Phoebe turned and looked at Helga, "I guess they didn't know who should have the single brain that they share between them today so they decided it was best to just leave it at home."

Helga laughed, "It's the same old thing,"

"The same old way."

"Yea, I guess some things just don't change."

**(Y/L)**

Nope, I don't own Hey Arnold! If I did, I would be in Japan living in a penthouse and would have a personal airplane. Unfortunately, I don't.

Published: 7 04

Edited: 7 05

Re-edited: 12 05


	2. Getting Into the Game

Everyone changes with time. A day, a week, a month, a year... they all count. So how much can a group of rag tag 4th graders from P.S. 118 change with junior high, high school, and a whole bunch of history between those seven years? A whole lot.

**Years Later**

_Getting Into the Game_

Helga was the Grand Dame, the Head Honcho, the big Kahuna, the Queen_ (as well as the King), and_ the Overall Ruler of _Sparta,_ Crinshaw's newspaper... and there was no doubt in anyone's mind otherwise, because Helga Pataki made sure that everyone knew it.

She was the Chief Editor of _Sparta_ and the only person she had to answer to was Mr. Simmons, who became a Language Arts teacher in Crinshaw four years ago. And of course because of Mr. Simmons' very intricate teaching philosophy, he thought it was better to stand back and let the students use the full extent of their creativity on the newspaper. This pretty much left the Chief Editor as the leader of the newspaper.

The newspaper ran on a bi-weekly schedule and people were either assigned or picked events to cover for the newspaper. As Chief Editor, Helga would oversee the projects, accept or reject stories for the newspaper, review and revise some of the stories, and sometimes write a few stories for _Sparta—_but because she was highly opinionated against the function of the school and all things dealing with the school, she rarely actually wrote articles.

Last year Julie Grant was the Chief Editor and was in her senior year at Crinshaw, she had been overlooking_ Sparta _since her sophomore year. _Sparta_ members, excluding Mr. Simmons and Roxannr, made their votes for the new Chief, either Helga or Sophia Clementine, a popular Spartan cheerleader.

It was a tie.

The tiebreakers were between the current Chief and the newspaper advisor. So immediately when Julie and Mr. Simmons walked into an office to talk over their decision, people began to congratulate Sophia. Roxanne was not only the Chief Editor of _Sparta_, she was also a Spartan cheerleader and the granddaughter of the Coach Grant, the Spartan football team coach, the god of the gods. But what many people did not know was how much of a shrewd person Julie was and then there was the little unknown fact that she didn't believe in the spoils system that the school had created.

That was probably why when Julie and Mr. Simmons announced that the new Chief Editor was going to be Helga, many of the staff members were shocked. From that moment on, Helga was Chief Editor in training—which basically meant she was the Chief of _Sparta_, but had Julie there to advise her.

When Julie and Helga worked late one night finishing up the school's last edition of _Sparta_ for the school year, Julie gave Helga a piece of advice. _"Play into their hands and they'll love you, turn away from them and they'll hate you. Do yourself a favor and just go along with it, after all, you don't want your career ruined before it's even started… like Anna Trappe."_ And that was that...

Helga stood in front of _Sparta_'s headquarters, in the Language Arts Hallway on Crinshaw's second floor. The room used to be the National Honor Society headquarters, until Janice Grant, Julie's older sister who had been Chief Editor before Julie, convinced the principal that the school was involved with the football team, therefore they needed a larger operating room. Needless to say, within a matter of twenty-four hours the National Honor Society members found that their headquarters had been located into the former, not to mention smaller, newspaper headquarters. This was the first time that _Sparta_ had made an enemy out of a Crinshawnian club, but is certainly wasn't the last.

Helga was sure that ever since that day the room had looked the same way it did now— full of old school records and files, computers, encyclopedias, newspapers, and other countless reference books. As she sat in a warm and plushy chair behind the all important Chief Editor desk, she could only smirk as she watched the entire staff gather in the room in a highly organized fashion that only could attributed to the self-importance of the Crinshawnian cockiness that seemed to float around like a disease in Hillwood. Hillwood would never change and its residents would never learn its lesson, Helga had gotten used this fact a long time ago, but that didn't mean that she had to enjoy it.

When the last person walked in and took their place among the crowd, all eyes focused on Helga, but she did not flinch or shy away, she was quite used to large groups of people staring at her. Although it usually wasn't for a good reason.

"Okay, as we all know, the football team's first game is on the 24th." There were a few hoots from the back of the room, but Helga dutifully ignored them and continued to speak, "So as a _Sparta_ tradition we will be doing recapturing Spartan history and interviewing the boys and staff of the team then publishing it as a special edition on the 22nd. I want Sheena, Erik, Iggy, Frank, and Jessie interviewing the team in groups of five." Helga pointed to a paper posted on a board behind her. "On there you'll find out who you'll interview. Come to me after this so we look over the list of questions for the interview. I want Leah and Laurence to interview the staff. Same things apply to you two." Both Leah and Laurence nodded in understanding.

"Erika and Phil I want you two doing the Spartans' football history, the wins, the losses, the championships, the heroes ..._blah blah blah_... the usual. You two can basically take the issue from the last year and copy it, but remember to add on the new records and make it look like we actually put some effort into it."

There were some snickers around the room, but once again, Helga continued on speaking to the staff, or rather, her staff. "I've gotten clearance to have these interviews during school on Friday, during first period and homeroom, the football players along with _Sparta_ members involved will be called from class. I will need everything for this issue in my e-mail mailbox by the 18th, no later than midnight because we are going to need to get them to print on Sunday by five o'clock in the morning, not the afternoon Grant," Helga watched as the petite blonde known as Jenny Grant winced at the allusion to a mistake she had made last June. "That way we'll be able to get them out by Monday. Everyone else should start working on their stories for the regular issue, so when we have to make that deadline for Saturday, we'll still be on schedule. Is that okay with everyone?" Helga gave her audience cursory glance and saw no objections. "So, I guess this meeting is adjourned and everyone can get back to their first period classes."

Helga stayed behind and talked to the people she had assigned jobs to for the special edition, once everything was cleared up, they made their ways to the door, leaving Helga and Phoebe behind in the room. Phoebe, who was coincidentally one of the Junior Editors, sat quietly in a chair, one step under Helga. Normally she would help Helga clear up the Headquarters, but today she was just waiting for Helga to say something. After all, she known Helga for ten years, and she always knew when the blonde was definitely thinking something, it was just a matter of how long before Helga actually made her opinion known.

Helga picked up her history books and headed for the door with keys in hand and Phoebe following her. "Y'know," Helga paused for a moment as if she was trying to gather her thoughts, "I can't stand how this whole damn town deify those stupid football players… It's goddamn sickening."

Phoebe smiled; she knew that was what Helga was going to say, so fortunately she knew what to say back. "You know that this whole town is living through them vicariously."

Helga locked _Sparta's_ Headquarters and dropped the set of keys in her pockets, she would have to give them back to Mr. Simmons before school was over. "But it is so damn annoying. They fill them up with all these hopes and dreams, all these false perceptions of reality, and they all only wind up having a miserable life. Have any Spartan's ever made it to the NFL!" Phoebe opened her mouth. "Andrews doesn't count because he got kicked out because of steroids and drugs! All of them think they're the shit, but if they keep up their lives thinking that way they won't amount to anything! Football is not King, it is stupidity."

"I know that, you know, I'm sure even those fans who root them on and live through them know that. But try telling them that."

Helga stopped walking for a moment before the customary Helga 'Badass' Pataki smirk replaced her scowl. "I think I'd rather not, I don't want to ruin my high school career or my future career as a writer like Anna Trappe. I do plan on going places in my life."

**(Y/L)**

Helga had just finished her stretches by the stands and was walking to the racetrack to join the rest of her gym class, when a hand covered her eyes. She felt the pressure of something resting on one of her shoulders and something else wrap around her waist.

"Guess who?" The person whispered into her ear.

Without any hesitation, Helga elbowed Sid in his stomach and pulled out of his arms. "Next time, try disguising your voice, Smarty Pants."

Sid sniffled playfully and rubbed his stomach. "Aww, come on Helgs," He draped an arm around her shoulder. "Don't be that way."

"How many times have I told you to _not_ call me that name?"

"I dunno." Sid said, shrugging his shoulders "I lost count after eight hundred and forty-six. But I do know that you're beauty is intensified when you're pissed off and ready to beat the crap out of me... it completely turns me on. It makes me really, really horny."

Helga laughed and pecked Sid on his mouth. "Sid, I don't know what I'm going to do with you."

Sid took this time to nuzzle his nose in the nook of her neck before answering her in a whisper, "Hopefully bend me over your knee and spank me."

The blonde female looked at her friend for a moment, and opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something. At the last moment, Helga thought better of it and closed her mouth with a sharp snap before rolling her eyes and continuing on her way to the racetrack, not even bothering to try and remove Sid's arm from her shoulder. Gym was Helga's ninth period class, the last and final class of the day for Helga and unfortunately Phoebe was not in the class, but, fortunately Sid was.

Sid, being the person he was, did not care that Helga or Phoebe were not popular; he thought they both were interesting to be around. Especially when they were joking around— their conversations almost sounded as if they were scripted, and Sid loved a good laugh. Around the end of ninth grade, Helga began to consider Sid a good friend and by the beginning of tenth grade, Helga, Phoebe, and Sid were best friends.

The made an odd trio.

Helga, the cynical and sarcastic one.

Phoebe, the sarcastic and shrewd one.

Sid, the joking and friendly one.

As they neared the racetrack Helga could feel the frosty glares being directed at her by Sid's fan club. "If you don't mind so much, my dear, would please take your arm off my shoulder."

"Why should I?" While Sid did show that it was actually an intelligent being at very few and far between rare times, he tended to lean towards obliviousness 99.9 of the time.

With a sigh, Helga explained to Sid the precarious position he was putting her in, "Because if you don't I have this distinct feeling that I'll be maimed by the mob that calls itself your fan club… and if I fight them off, which I'm sure I would, I'm fairly sure I'll get suspended, and no offense, but I really don't feel like getting suspended on the first month back because of you."

Instead of letting Helga go, Sid drew her closer to him and licked his lips suggestively. "And should I tell them that you and have been involved for years? Or, what if I tell them that I am madly in love with you?" He drawled, lowering his voice until it was husky.

Other girls would a) faint b) squeal c) kiss him d) become— in _Phoebe Speak_— '_ragingly randy_' or e) do a weird combination of all four, but not Helga.

"Cut the crap." Helga ducked out from underneath Sid's arm and pushed him away, before she smirked at him. "Plus, we both know who you really are madly in love with."

Sid was not fazed. "Who's that?"

Helga moved in closer to Sid and planted a kiss onto his mouth before smirking, "Why Sheena Smithe, of course."

Sid sputtered, opening and closing his mouth, tripped, and crossed his eyes all at once, before he could actually formulate a sentence. "I-I-I don'- I do not!"

Helga gently closed his jaw as she pouted, "You don't have to lie to me, _baby_. I've seen the goo-goo eyes you send her way _every_ time she passes you."

"Damn, I thought you didn't see those."

"No, I didn't. But I now know that you do… but don't worry, I won't tell her. At least not intentionally."

Sid said nothing, he just glared at her.

Helga held her arms up in a mock surrender, "Fine, I won't tell her at all, period, dot, exclamation point, or whatever punctuation mark that makes you feel the most comfortable."

"Thank you!" Sid moved to hug Helga.

Helga moved away from Sid and smiled, "That's why she is going to be interviewing you and four other players for Sparta."

Sid's mouth dropped and his face went blank.

"Pataki! Gifaldi!" Their gym teacher shouted, from the racetrack where the rest of their class stood. "Get over here and stop flirting!"

Sid blushed and sputtered as Helga calmly walked away from him. "Whatever you say Mr. Hansen!" Helga glanced back at Sid. "Coming Mr. Sheena Smithe?"

**(Y/L)**

Helga wore the standard blue and white waitress dress with her blonde and pink hair twisted back into a tight bun as she served people sitting around the counter.

"I don't think I've ever seen someone turn that red in .05 seconds."

Phoebe shook her head in remorse for Sid. "We both knew about his crush, but there was no need to hold it over the poor guys head."

Helga gave a truck driver his steak and mash potato dinner with a friendly smile, something Ms. Patty forced her to wear. Helga could deal with the outfit that definitely took away from her highlights (not to mention clashed in a horrible non-clashing clashing un-Helga sense), she could deal with the stares from the old men and truck drivers, and she could even deal with the odd hours. Helga could stand all of these things, but she just couldn't stand smiling at the people who didn't know where to keep their hands and what not to put their hands on.

But no matter how much Helga disliked her job, she would never quit. If Helga needed to work off the books, Patty let her work off the book. If Helga needed more hours, Patty gave her more hours. It was a positive give and take relationship that Helga saw no need to end, therefore she wouldn't end it. Plus she was getting money the legal way, what more could any person ask for?

"I couldn't help myself. The temptation was too great!"

"Let me guess,_ 'Lead me not into temptation, I can find it myself', _right?"

"Exactly."

Helga was working the graveyard shift at the diner and Phoebe stopped by to give Helga a visit. Both her parents were doctors and they were both workaholics, leaving Phoebe in her house alone to do as she pleased. This, of course led to Phoebe being on the street at twelve twenty-one a.m., because this was what pleased Phoebe.

In the swivel chair next Phoebe, was the sleeping form of Hilda, wrapped up in Helga's coat to insure as much comfort for the first grader. Meanwhile, Hilda slept in a chair next to Phoebe. To Hilda, Phoebe was like her other sister. Whenever Helga was working late, early, on the weekends, or whenever Patty called her in, Phoebe always stepped in to help her best friend, and Hilda loved Phoebe for that. Plus Phoebe had a treasure load of snackage, junk food in Phoebe talk, and had the _Princess Powder Puffs: Princess' Power _game, what more could a first grade girl ask for?

After her shift was done, Helga disappeared into the backroom of the diner. When she came back, her hair was free and she wore her fading favorite pair of blue jeans with a brown shirt layered over a long sleeved white shirt— she was back to normal Helga clothes. She held a pink and brown knapsack along with a small purple and pink one. She shouldered the pink and brown one then handed the smaller one to Phoebe.

Carefully, as not to wake Hilda, she picked up the young girl and began heading towards the exit that also doubled as the entrance of _Patty's Diner_ with Phoebe walking next to her. Just as Phoebe reached to open the door, it flew open and both Helga and Phoebe had to jump back so that they wouldn't be hit by the door. Seconds later, Harold, Arnold, and Gerald, with their respective girlfriends wrapped in their arms, strode in the diner as if they owned the place, with Sid, Wolfgang, Kaylia and Nadine walking behind them.

Lila looked around and caught of Helga's distinctive hair color. She looked at Helga in disgust and turned her nose into the air before she spoke to her _loyal subject_, "Hello, freak."

"Hello Miss. I-Can't-Think-Of-Anything-Original-So-I'll-Call-You-Something-Only-A-Kindergartner-Would-Find-Insulting… I do believe that my sister could come up with something with more of a sting. What do you think, Pheebs?" Helga said before turning her head to look at the person standing beside her.

Phoebe nodded her head in agreement, "I concur."

"So your Royal Pain in the Ass, how are your feeble mind cells doing today?"

Lila, along with Rhonda, Kaylia, Nadine, and Kamelia opened their mouths to insult Helga back, but Phoebe had already begun to speak.

"Now, now, now, Helga, just because her brain cells don't have the same mental capacity as yours do, it doesn't mean that you should make fun of her. Remember what they say about teasing half-witted animals." Phoebe grabbed Helga's free arm and dragged her out of the diner. "Have a good evening all." Neither Helga nor Phoebe looked back to see the looks of outrage and dark glares that followed them.

After walking ten blocks or so, Helga and Phoebe reached the street that would lead Phoebe to her house. "Bye Phoebe."

"Bye Helga, tell Hilda I said bye." Phoebe put Hilda's pink and purple bag in Helga's knapsack before she walking in the direction of her house Meanwhile, Helga kept walking down C Street with her sister sleeping in her arms and only the street lights to guide her. It took five minutes before Helga sighted 1422 L Street, the place she had called her home her whole life. A place the caused evoked happiness, sadness, and angriness from Helga G. Pataki. It was a place mixed, full of both pain and joy, but in the end, Helga knew it was just a two story house laid together with wood and steel, and painted to look pretty.

The house was engulfed in darkness, meaning that Big Bob was out getting drunk off of her money. Balancing Hilda in one hand, Helga pulled out her Pink Panther key chain with her other hand and opened the front door. She walked in the house, but did not even bother to even give the house a chance bathe itself in light; she simply navigated through the darkness and made her way up the stairs.

After getting Hilda dressed in her night clothes, she tucked the small girl into bed and locked the girl's door behind her with a key on her chain. When Big Bob came home from his night rendezvous, he was never quite coherent, and Helga wasn't quite sure what he would say in his alcohol induced anger. There was no need for him to take this anger out on Hilda, if he wanted a fight he could always find one in Helga. At least now Helga didn't have to fight him or his girlfriend that he kept breaking up and getting back together with.

She walked down the hallway until she got to her own room, which she unlocked it with another key and stepped inside. Once she saw that nothing was missing she locked herself in for the night.

It was twelve-fifty nine a.m. she was absolutely exhausted and she wanted to sleep… no, she didn't just want to sleep, she _needed_ to sleep, but she still had an essay she needed to type and trigonometry problems to finish. Helga opened her knapsack and pulled out the notebook that she conveniently used for every subject before grabbing her laptop that she kept underneath her bed.

There would be no sleep for Helga G. Pataki tonight– or rather this morning.

_After all, _Helga thought to her self. _There is no rest for the wicked_.

**(Y/L)**

Nope, I still don't own Hey Arnold! 'Cause if I did I would have more than ten dollars in my pockets. Thank you BellaMay76, vashfan311, DcWestby and CmarieL for the reviews. Remember a disgruntled abandoned review button, is not a very happy review button.

S.L. Cipher

Published: _Justin, you're a psychic, I'm sure you know._

Edited: 7 05

Re-edited: 12 05


	3. Just Not My Day

Everyone changes with time. A day, a week, a month, a year... they all count. So how much can a group of rag tag 4th graders from P.S. 118 change with junior high, high school, and a whole bunch of history between those seven years? A whole lot.

**Years Later**

_Just Not My Day_

It was a Friday, the 17th day of September. It was the day of the Spartan football team's interview and it was also the day that the rain decided it wanted to shower Hillwood with its naturally gift, treating the land a down pour worthy of a spring storm while it drenched Helga with water; fortunate for the land, unfortunate for Helga, who was caught outside without an umbrella or a jacket. Nope, Helga didn't even have her knapsack, which sat all nice and cozy on her warm bed at 1422 L Street. In fact, Helga pretty much had nothing to protect herself, or her hair, against water that was being ceremoniously dumped on her.

She had woken up too late and had no time to grab a jacket, all she brought was her homework folder, which thanks to the rain, was now thoroughly drenched. Helga dropped Hilda to school, signing her in with Mrs. Hayes, the director of the early school club. When she came outside of P.S. 118, the rain immediately began to pour, and then she missed her bus. She was wearing her 'Siht' white wife beater with her red and black plaid skirt, neither of which protected her from getting soaked… and then let's not forgets that Helga was fairly sure that because of the rain, people were getting a free glimpse at her lacy black bra. The only good news was that her knee high leather combat boots kept her feet from getting wet.

_Everything else_, Helga thought to herself as she reached Ellendale Road, an indication that Helga was three blocks away from school,_ sucks_.

Helga had just sneezed when she felt something being draped over her shoulders. It smelt like leather and whole bunch of stuff that Helga could only identify with one person… well to be straightforward, it smelt like Sid. She looked to her right and saw Sid walking next to her in a black t-shirt and jeans sans his typical black leather jacket.

"Hey."

"Hi there Helgs."

Helga ignored the annoying nickname; she didn't even have the patience to become impatient and annoyed enough to hit Sid. "Thanks for the jacket, Siddy." She said tugging on the leather jacket on her shoulders with her free hand; the other hand was busy holding her soggy homework folder.

"No problem." Sid draped his arm over her shoulders. "As long as you know, you're paying the cleaning bill, and stop calling me that horrible nickname."

"_Right_, since you're so nice as to stop calling me Helgs?" Helga snorted. "So why are you out here?"

"When you didn't answer your cell, we got worried." Sid said, not even bothering to elaborate who the '_we'_ were considering that it was an understood fact that '_we'_ consisted of Sid and Phoebe. "Actually I got worried and Phoebe went all crazy and shit, then ordered me to go out and find you." Sid cringed. "She can be very scary when she wants to. Very, very scary."

Helga nodded her head in understanding, "Trust me when I say, I know. Never ever, ever mess with her C.D. collection. I still have nightmares about what happened… I swore I saw her head do a complete 360 degree turn. I had to call an exorcist before she started spew green goop."

Sid smirked. "Did you do the Spanish homework?"

"Why."

Sid smiled sheepishly, "I need to copy it."

Helga opened her wet folder and pulled out a waterlogged piece of paper. "Sure, as long as you can read soggy."

**(Y/L)**

Sid and Helga walked in their Language Arts class fourteen minutes late. They would have only been seven minutes late, but they had a run in with Principal McNielson, who yelled at Helga for wearing a jacket inside school, a conduct strictly forbidden in school rules manual under Section 4 article 6, to be exact. Never mind the fact that Sid constantly wore a jacket inside of the school whenever he got the chance and no one ever yelled at him. When Helga finally gave in and removed the jacket, the principal ordered her to put it back on. After further inspection Helga and Sid both realized the reason why.

No principal wanted to be blamed for the fact that a young female was walking around the school with a transparent shirt wearing a black lacy bra underneath it. Something about that just did not scream Principal of the Year Award.

Both wet, Helga being just a _bit_ more than Sid, they left a distinct trial of water wherever they walked in Room 204.

"Look what the cat dragged in." Kamelia said as Helga passed by her, it seemed like she was still mad about the comment Helga had made at the diner the other day.

Helga said nothing, instead she took her customary seat in the last row next to Phoebe, while Sid sat next to her, sitting behind Arnold. Luckily for Sid and Helga, their first period teacher was Mr. Simmons. They both watched as the man took attendance and did not even bother to mark them as late.

"Helga."

Helga looked at a very disgruntled Phoebe, "Yea?"

"How come you didn't answer your phone?"

"I was running late and forgot it. I just hope Patty doesn't call to make any schedule changes."

"You have other problems to worry about."

"Wha–?"

"_Can all _Sparta _Staff members and Spartan football players involved with the newspaper interview report to the cafeteria, now please." _Mrs. Bernheimer, also known as the nice secretary in the front office, said over the PA system._ "I repeat, can all _Sparta _Staff members and Spartan football players involved with the newspaper report to the cafeteria, now please. Thank you." _

Helga could see Harold, Arnold, Gerald, and Sid rise from their seats, from the corner of her eye. Phoebe and Helga followed their lead, and also got out of their seats. When they were all about to leave the classroom, Helga saw Lila, Rhonda, Kamelia, joining their boyfriends, with Nadine and Kaylia following their idea. Helga turned around and glared at the five girls. "And where do you think you're all going?"

It seemed like Kamelia was the one carrying the one brain that they shared today because she was the one that answered. "We _are _going to the interview." The girl shot Helga a nasty look and Helga returned it by a tenfold.

"No, you're not."

Now, Nadine decided to speak up. "And who are _you _to stop us?"

"Let's see... hmmm. I'm the Chief Editor of _Sparta_ and what I say, goes... So how about that?"

"Fine so how about we ask Mr. Simmons." Lila turned around and flashed Mr. Simmons a _pretty _and _innocent _smile. "Can we _please_ go to the interview?"

Mr. Simmons closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with only one thought floating through his mind. _It's going to be one long school year_. "I'm sorry, but that decision rests in the Chief Editor's hands. Like Helga said, what she says goes. I only act as the advisor."

Lila focused her glare on Helga, who had a very smug smile gracing her face. "Bu-bye, I've got an interview session to supervise, because I am _the_ Chief Editor." With that said Helga left Room 204, sensing the all too familiar feeling of daggers being directed at her back as she swaggered out into the hallway.

Phoebe snickered into her hands as she looked up to see the broad self satisfied smile on Helga's face. "Why do we, or more so you, get into so many petty squabbles with them, again?"

Helga shrugged, "I dunno, we've just simply hated each others guts since junior high and this extends to you because you're associated with me. But it doesn't matter to me because I think they're all dumb bimbos, with the exception of Kaylia, she's smarter than she pretends to be."

"I think you're forgetting the fact that winning arguments against them make you very happy. I can see by that smile that your day has definitely been brightened."

"More than you'll ever know."

"Then, I'd hate to the bearer of bad new, but we've got a problem."

Helga and Phoebe walked down the back staircase, the closest staircase located near the school cafeteria. "Which is?"

"Sheena is suffering from food poison. She tried to call you earlier to tell you on your phone, but because you decided to be a dumb blonde, you left it home, so you obviously didn't pick up."

"Oh, crap."

"Yea, that was my sentiments exactly."

"No, no, crappy, crap. She had added some specific questions and changed some of her questions for her group and I don't have the final copy of that."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I am."

Phoebe and Helga walked through the cafeteria's opened wooden doors, passing by a waving Eugene. They both absentmindedly waved back at the red head as they continued to walk deeper into the cafeteria.

On the right side of the cafeteria, Thaddeus "Curly" Gammelthorpe (_"Just call me Tad, _please_!"_), the newspaper photographer was setting up with a backdrop borrowed from the school's drama club. Helga could hear him grumbling about the awful rainy weather ruining his work. He was supposed to take the photos outside of the football field, but obviously because of the rain he couldn't.

To the left, there were five tables with six chairs around each of them and two tables with three chairs each.

"Well Sheena said that she emailed the questions to your school e-mail account yesterday."

"Yea, she did." Helga lightly hit her head. "I completely forgot about that. I guess I'll do the interview for her..._ Pheebs_?"

Phoebe looked at Helga warily, she knew the tone of voice Helga was using. It was that same tone that convinced her that a belly button ring would look nice on her, especially since it was a buy one get one half off at_ Piercings 'n' Things_. "Yes?" Phoebe asked hesitantly.

"Could you go and print it out from the library? You already know my password, right?"

Phoebe sighed in relief, so maybe she did not know that tone. "Yup. It's no prob–"

"And do you have the history homework? I sort of didn't fill out the packet."

Scratch that, Phoebe knew that tone of voice. "Sure, I'll give it to you during third."

"Thanks. You're the best."

Phoebe said nothing, she just waved off the '_thanks'_ as she walked out of the cafeteria, heading towards the library.

Helga looked around the cafeteria was being prepped for the interview as she tried to remember exactly what group she had been assigned to interview. As if the world had turned into a daytime television drama, right on cue Sid entered the cafeteria with Wolfgang walking next to him, while Helga's face dropped, and her pale skin, just got paler.

"Crappitty, crappy, crap." Helga began to recall her ingenious plot. She had set up the interviews so that Sheena would be interviewing Sid— both of whom had large crushes on the other but were too slow to pick up the signs that they were sending each other.

_Sheena probably just got sick on purpose, just so she could avoid interviewing Sid_, Helga thought maliciously as she realized exactly who she would be stuck interviewing, but somewhere deep down in her mind, behind her thick skull, Helga knew that Sheena would never do that. Sheena was one of _Sparta's_ best reporters, which is the exact reason why Helga had assigned the specific job of interviewing _The Golden Ones_.

Arnold "Golden Boy" Linshaw—_The Golden All-American Quarterback_.

Gerald "99 Yards" Johanssen—_The Golden Running Back Who Made a 99 Yard Play to Score a Touchdown in His Freshman Year._

Sid "Pretty Boy" Gifaldi—_The Golden Receiver Who Has Massive Amounts of Fan Clubs That Worship the Ground He Walks On_.

Harold "Beady Eyed" Berman— _The Golden Unstoppable Defensive Lineman_.

Wolfgang "The Wolfman" Caldwell—_The Golden Vicious Defensive Lineman._

From the way she could feel her brain freeze and body revolt, Helga knew she had officially entered the last bowel of Hell. She saw as Eugene pointed Arnold, Harold, and Gerald towards the station that was supposed to be Sheena's, but now was hers instead. _This really just isn't my day, is it?_

"_Well_... this is just crapadelicious."

Helga heard someone sigh, when she turned around she was facing one pouting Sid Gifaldi standing next to one smirking Wolfgang Caldwell.

"Is that how you feel about me Helgs? I thought you and I were friends... if not lovers?" Sid pouted putting a hand over his_ wounded_ heart and leaning on Wolfgang for _support_.

"Shut up Sid," Helga pushed Sid's arm off of Wolfgang and amusedly watched as his arms went flailing in the air reaching for something to keep him from falling. Unfortunately, he didn't, and soon Sid found himself unceremoniously sprawled on the cafeteria floor.

Helga found one side of her mouth curving upwards as it twisted into a smirk while she looked down at the not so pleased golden Spartan receiver. "Now get up and go sit in a chair, that's what they're for, _sweety._"

Hastily, Sid got up from the ground as if he just realized that the floor of the Crinshaw cafeteria was infected with a many diseases. He dusted imaginary dirt off his jeans as he made his way to the set of chairs surrounding the round table. "So now I'm _Sweety, _eh? I always knew you would succumb to my charms one day." He lightly slapped Helga on her butt. "Now be a good girl and come and sit in daddy's lap."

Helga automatically returned Sid's kind gesture, but thought it was better to deliver it somewhere else. "Sid, sit!"

Sid winced and held the sore spot that formed on the back of his head as he sent Helga a look of indignation, when Helga returned the look with a raised eyebrow, as well as a raised hand, Sid _mysteriously_ found himself sitting in on of the seats in front of the blonde female. "Ow."

"Stop complaining you baby!" Helga stuck her tongue out at Sid, revealing the blue ball and pin on her pink tongue. "And I'm glad it hurt, you complainer!"

"Now, who says I was complaining… you know how much I love it when you abuse me." Sid crooked a finger and beckoned Helga to him. "Now c'mon over here, I just want to _play_."

Helga rolled her blue eyes towards the cafeteria ceiling before fixing Sid with a look that said she was half amused, a quarter annoyed, and a quarter bewildered. "How do you manage to make everything sound _so_ dirty?"

Sid shrugged his shoulders lightly. "It's a talent. Now," Sid pulled Helga close to him, having her stand in between his legs as he sat in his chair and patted his lap. "Let's play."

Once again, Sid found himself being on the back of his head. "Do you mind, I have to conduct an interview soon?"

"Yea I do mind, you keep hitting me! Do you realize you have rings on each of your damn fingers, _woman_!"

"Do you realize that if you weren't acting so moronic, I wouldn't have to hit you with my hand that has fingers that have rings on them, _man_?"

"You're no fun." Sid said as a pout settled onto his lips.

Helga leaned forwards so that she could whisper into Sid's ear. "Yea, but maybe later you and I could have some... _fun_... _hmm_?" She blew into his ear before moving her lips so close to his ear that they were touching it. Helga lowered her voice to insure that no one could hear what she was about to say, "Whipped cream or chocolate, or maybe both? Or would you rather have me call Sheena, she'd probably be much more fun to _play_ with. _Right_?"

With a quick peck, which half landed on his mouth and the other landed on his cheek, Helga threw a _subtle_ wink she moved away from Sid, who so happened to resemble the color of the guitar she called _Cherry Swirl. _She saw the eyes of the other members of _The Golden Ones,_ as they sat quietly sat on the hard plastic cafeteria chairs, curiously watching the exchange between Helga and Sid. Helga swore that if she concentrated hard enough that she could actually hear the thoughts floating around in their minds after seeing what an atypical conversation was to Helga and Sid.

Helga could also swear that she could feel the warmth of her own shade of _Cherry Swirl_ spreading across her face. Helga cleared her throat and began to talk to the whole group, taking their attention away from the flustered Sid Gifaldi onto her own flustered self, "Sheena Smithe, the reporter who was supposed to interview all of you, is absent today, so I'm going to interview you instead. I'm just waiting for someone to give me the questions—"

Something poked Helga in her left arm and when she turned to her left, her vision was filled with the vision of pink. A pink stapled copy of Sheena's altered questions, to be exact, that was being held by one smiling Phoebe Heyerdahl. She took the freshly printed pages from Phoebe's outstretched hand, noting that the pink paper was from Helga's own private stash, hidden in the most remote depths of her locker. Fortunately Phoebe, Helga was glad for the distraction. Helga turned to the five males sitting patiently and told them that they would start the interview soon, before she spoke to Phoebe, "Thanks, but do you have–?"

Before Helga could even finish her sentence, Phoebe brought her right arm from its resting place behind her back and in her petite hand she held Helga's special _I'm-Such-A-Professional_ pink tape recorder. Coincidentally, Helga's recorder also tended to hide in unknown, uncharted regions within her locker. Helga took the recorder with a mock glare directed at the smaller female, noticing as Phoebe's smile got wider.

"I hate it when you do that."

Phoebe's smile broadened immensely. "I know."

"Could you–"

"Go around and monitor all of the stations? No problem, Chief."

Helga opened and closed her mouth a few times before she found the correct words. "Go woman." She pointed to a random station. "Just go and stop tapping into the other ninety percent of your brain, _please_."

Sid, who was at last able to un-fluster himself during the short period of time, and Phoebe traded smirks. "Bye Helga, bye Sid." Phoebe flounced off in the random direction Helga pointed her off to with the smile still plastered onto her face, but not before she noticed that Helga's right eye had contracted a strange twitch.

Once she was sure Phoebe was truly gone and not possibly waiting somewhere to finish all of her thoughts and sentences, Helga plopped herself onto the final remaining chair in the station, crossing her ankles, and tugged at Sid's leather jacket so she wasn't sitting on it after she saw the dark haired football player glaring at her when she brusquely sat on it. She put the tape recorder on the table and pressed the record button before she glanced at the first question on Sheena's paper, then rolled her eyes. "So, how does it feel to be dubbed, T_he Golden Ones_?"

Fortunately for Helga, the following questions were a lot better, unfortunately, the interview process was a very long and very tedious event. In other words, in _Helga Speak_, it was torture, all nine levels of Dante's _Inferno_ torture. An hour and a good portion of a period later, Phoebe and Helga found themselves walking through the crowded hallways of Crinshaw.

"So, how was it?" Phoebe asked, as she and Helga walked together to their third period class, Chemistry Honors.

Neither of them had seen each other since the interviews, that ran later than everyone expected, had finished because once they were over Helga was dragged off by Thaddeus, who was still complaining about his ruined photo shoot, which resulted in Helga being fifteen minutes late to her second period class… and then there was the fact that they did not have second period together. That of course, put a bit of a limit to the conversation that flowed between them.

Visibly, Helga's shoulders sagged as the blonde groaned and found herself walking at a slower pace, "Absolutely horrendously."

"Why, did you think Sheena's questions were bad? When I skimmed them over, I thought they were pretty good if you ask me."

"But I didn't ask you." Helga shrugged off the mock glare that Phoebe sent her way. "Anyways, I thought her questions were great, with exception of the first one."

"The 'golden one', right?"

"Yup that was a bit too generic for me. She'll definitely give me a run for my money when we're off in the real newspaper business world. But alas, no, the questions were not the source of my agony."

Phoebe was ticking a list off in her head trying to figure out what had caused the interviews to be '_horrendous'_ but could not think of anything, that was when she heard Helga groan again and she looked up to see her gaze fixed on something as her face twisted into a grimace. Phoebe followed the gaze across the wide hallways of Crinshaw High School only to see one Wolfgang Caldwell walking towards them, or rather, walking towards Helga.

"Hey Helga. How about you and I grab something to eat after school?"

Wolfgang tried to put an arm around Helga's shoulders but Helga promptly slapped it away from her. "How about you go stick your head in a toilet bowl and see how long you can hold your breath while you're in there?"

Wolfgang smiled, yes the poor deluded guy actually smiled at Helga's insult. "Playing hard to get, eh? No worries you'll come around. They always do."

"Only if the '_they'_ you're referring to are dumb bimbos." She pushed past Wolfgang. "Now if you're done wasting the air space around me, I have a third period class to get to, where I actually go and learn things." Helga walked away from a smiling Wolfgang with Phoebe by her side. "_That_ was the source of my agony! I don't know why, in fact, I don't want to know why, but, for some strange inane reason, it seems that Wolfgang _likes _me."

Phoebe could hear the strain in Helga's voice as she said the word '_likes'_ and she snickered at the blonde's sickened expression.

"Are you laughing at my agony?"

Phoebe cocked one raven eyebrow at Helga. "Do you want the truth?"

"No, please lie to me. That always makes me feel a lot better than the truth."

"Okay, then I wasn't laughing at the pity party you were throwing yourself."

Helga purposely bumped into Phoebe's hips, or rather Phoebe's ribs because Helga was so much taller, with her own. "I hate you."

Phoebe was undaunted by the _threat_ to her life. "No, you love me." Phoebe smiled brightly. "Everyone loves me and they should. Or else I'll sic Pink Princess Powder Puff on them."

Helga looked down to see the completely serious expression on Phoebe's face. "Do I even want to know why you like that show and actually endorse its creators by buying the DVDs, the computer games, and all that other shitty merchandise that they sell?"

"All I have to say is that it's all Sid's fault, he hooked me onto this show. It will also be his fault when I give birth to a bouncing baby boy in three months who I shall name Seven Ingrid Heyerdahl Gifaldi."

"Basically what you're trying so hard to subtly tell me is that I just shouldn't have asked, right?"

"Basically."

Helga promptly changed the topic. "You know that buying all that crappy stuff and getting my sister brain washed by that crappy show, you and Sid are both going straight to hell."

"Yup, and I know sure as hell's fire that we'll be seeing you there."

"Basically."

**(Y/L)**

_B E E P! This is a disclaimer! _I do not own Hey Arnold! 'Cause if I did, the poor show would be corrupt with my crazy thoughts! Thank you Blonde Cecile, Sakuyaku-chan, Demile, and Anonymous won't display the name, sorry) for the wonderful reviews.

PS:

_Blonde Cecile_, I needed something to elevate Helga to the motherly, protective, and driven state that she is in, in the story. I had other things planned all of which included Hilda, but it wasn't until I thought of a down and out alcoholic Bob did everything tie together. No worries, the Bob thing won't get carried away. Arnold will be coming soon, if everything goes as planned, he'll be in the next chapter.

_Demile_, remember seven years is a lot of time... You have no idea how much Helga has corrupted Phoebe (o.o) But Phoebe has also corrupted Helga too, in some ways. See, it balances out.

Now remember folks, click the shiny review button... it loves being praised.

S.L. Cipher

Published: _I forgot..._

Edited: 7 05

Re-edited: 12 05


	4. Are You Ready?

Everyone changes with time. A day, a week, a month, a year... they all count. So how much can a group of rag tag 4th graders from P.S. 118 change with junior high, high school, and a whole bunch of history between those seven years? A whole lot.

**Years Later**

_Are You Ready?_

It was a Spartan football tradition for one of the captains to give a speech before each game. Some ventured a guess that it began with Bob Erickson, the star quarter back from the 1988-1989 team, who started the tradition on September 23rd, 1968— the opening game that year, before the team went out and literally pulverized the 1948-1949 Wayside Falcons… making Wayside Hillwood's permanent sports rival. It was a tradition that had roots dating back to who knows when, just like it was a tradition for the whole team to go out running onto the field after said speech with their fans calling out their screaming so loud that they drowned out the boos of the opposing side.

This time, on Friday the 24th of September, it was Wolfgang's turn.

"Are you punks ready to beat the shit out of Cornwell?" He yelled. Arnold sat on the bench furthest from the dry-erase board and where Wolfgang was standing. He could hear the shouts from all of his teammates surrounding him, but instead of actually yelling back like the rest of the locker filled with so people, many of which who had never even been on the field, the blonde haired male simply nodded but stayed quiet, and was quickly jabbed in his ribs by Sid from the right and Gerald from his left. He gave them both dirty looks; Gerald returned it with equal force, while Sid smiled.

Arnold noticed that Wolfgang was cursing during his speech, again. Normally, students were not allowed to curse on Crinshaw school grounds. If they did, they usually winded up having to serve two days of detention. Arnold watched as Coach Grant said nothing to Wolfgang about his language, but whispered something in the defense coach's, Norman '_Dr. F'_ Faulknor, ear.

To Hillwood and the area that surrounded the town, the Spartan football players where gods, or demons depending on who you asked, but when they where compared to Coach Grant they were only demi-gods, or demi-demons. Coach Grant was a god above the gods, he was Zeus and they were Apollo, some even thought he was a gift from the angels. After all, when Mr. Grant came to Hillwood at the tender age of twenty-four the Spartans had the worst record in the Tri-State area, when he was finished training them that year, the Spartans came out on top, and always came out on top of the game ever since. Others, the _nay-sayers_, believed that Mr. Eli M. Grant had made a deal with the devil right before the Spartans came out on the field on their opening game that year and led the greatest upset known in high school football in the Tri-State area. At any rate, Grant had been leading the Spartans to victory for decades and with a few losses staining his nearly perfect record. Those losses that were sprinkled throughout _'Grantonian'_ Spartan football history were probably why he worked all the players like dogs, his record wasn't perfect.

"I said, are you ready?" The shouts inside of the room got louder and Arnold could hear the familiar sound of fist colliding with lockers. "Then let's get out there and serve their asses to them!"

Wolfgang led the charge as the Spartan players rushed out of the locker room en masse. As they passed through the red painted double doorway, they all made sure that they punched the lucky punching bag with '_Wayside'_ written on it in sloppy letters that resembled a third graders handiwork. The players charged onto the football field with their coaches, managers, assistant coaches, and countless other staff members jogging behind them.

Sid's eyes grazed over the crowd before he spotted the familiar pink streaked hair of Helga. Next Helga was Hilda, next to Hilda was Phoebe, next to Phoebe was Sheena, and all three of his former favorite female companions were pointing at the short haired brunette, smiling deviously, and giving him the thumbs up sign. Twin pink dots appeared on his cheeks as he turned away and walked over to the team's bench.

Gerald and Arnold gave their traditional wave to the crowds and the noise level in Grant Field doubled.

Arnold's blue eyes immediately found the customary banner made by his grandmother; it really wasn't a hard task considering how unique the banner was. _'Run With the Wild Ones Young Kimba! Throw Like the Wind!' _was painted in the Spartan colors of black and red on a white banner. Next to his grandmother was his grandfather, burying his head in his hand, visibly annoyed by the banner she carried with her to every game since he was in 7th grade. Next to his grandfather were Oskar and Suzie Kokoshka, former residents from his grandparent boarding house, they had moved out three years ago when he was in eight grade. Around the same time where his mother and father came home, it had bee miraculous and Arnold finally was able to have a full family once again. Miles and Stella Linshaw stood on the other side of his grandparents, waving proudly to their son. Occasionally one or more of the borders, both those that still lived at the house or had moved out, would come to see the game and cheer Arnold and the Spartans on. At the States Championship, all of the borders came to watch Crinshaw take down Greensboro.

"Hey." Came a soft voice from behind him, the person wrapped their arms around his waist, and Arnold did not even need to bother to guess who it was.

He turned around and kissed Lila squarely on her mouth. "Hey there yourself, beautiful."

Lila was dressed in the new cheerleading outfits. The outfit consisted of a black skirt with red pleats and a black turtleneck halter top that said "Spartans" in red and was outlined in white with a triangle keyhole cut out (_"It's there for the necessary cleavage, Pheebs."_). Mysteriously the cost of the new outfits was coincidentally the same amount of money that the basketball team was supposed to be provided with to get their new uniforms.

"That was your good luck kiss, do good on the field, and we'll see what prize you'll get later." Lila tweaked Arnold's hair before she winked and swaggered away from him, heading towards where the rest of the cheerleaders waited patiently. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Kamelia and Rhonda making similar promises to their boyfriends.

_If that isn't incentive enough, I don't know what is._

Sid smiled at his massive amounts of fan clubs and Arnold could swear he saw some girls faint. He could also see Wolfgang trying to get Helga Pataki's attention, who stood in the crowd giving his teammate the middle finger, and for some strange reason Wolfgang smiled and blew her a kiss. Helga turned from absolute revulsion to horror to queasiness; her face looked so sickly that Arnold swore she was getting ready to puke on the man standing in front of her.

"Ready for this, Arnold?" Gerald asked, clapping his best friend on the back.

"Hell yea. I do plan on having planning fun later tonight, so do me the favor and make sure you catch the ball and score a lot of touch downs."

Gerald smirked. "Right, we both know your mind is not thinking about football touchdowns."

"No it isn't. Problem?"

"Nope, I'm in the same state you're in."

The two friends laughed before Couch Grant ordered them onto the field to start the game.

The Cornwell Bangles were getting beat into the ground, without mercy. It was only halftime and the score was 24 to 3, Spartans. Harold had sacked their quarterback two times and Wolfgang had taken down one of their best receivers, who left the field hobbling on his one good leg leaning on one of Cornwell's managers for support. Overall it seemed like the Spartan's were having a great opening game and the Hillwood population was lapping up the show with excitement and adoration for their home team, at least most of the crowd was.

"I love football, but this isn't a fair game. Why did I let you bring me out here again, Phoebe?" Helga whined for the umpteenth time that night.

"Remember, to take Hilda out somewhere and to support our friend."

"Oh yea." Helga smiled. "And to see him blush like a junior high school girl."

Phoebe punched Helga in the arm, but nonetheless returned the smile. "That's not very nice."

"What can I say, I'm not a very nice person. But I didn't see you complaining when you saw Sid blushing."

Sheena Smithe's ears immediately perked up at the mention of the name '_Sid'_. "Did you just say something about Sid and blushing?"

Sheena's light brown hair was clipped back by two familiar pink barrettes, but now the girl's hair curled just below her ears. At one point during their sophomore year, Sheena's hair was just as long as Phoebe's, but being the humanitarian she was, she cut it all off for a charity group. When she wasn't ogling at Sid on the field she was advising Phoebe to do the same.

Helga shot Phoebe a sneaky smile and opened her mouth to reply, but soon found it being covered by her best friend's hand. "Blushing? I didn't see any blushing. I'm sure Helga," Phoebe glared at Helga at that point in order to keep the pink, blonde haired girl in check. "Was just imagining things."

Phoebe removed her hand from Helga's mouth not before she shot Helga another warning look. "Yea, Phoebe's right, I have a very active and vivid imagination. Plus I'm looking to see if I spot any of my friends from Cornwall, who knows what I really saw. But now I'm rambling, aren't I?" Helga did not wait for anyone's response, instead she turned to her sister and poked her.

Hilda looked up at Helga with one blonde eyebrow cocked over her clear blue eyes. "Yes?"

"You want something from the snack bar?"

Immediately the younger girl's eyes lit up in interest. "Do they have chocolate?"

"Yup."

Hilda said nothing, instead she grabbed Helga's hand with her smaller one and began dragging her older sister out of the stands towards the snack bar with no further questions asked.

"How is that humanly possible?" Sheena asked.

"You have much to learn, young one." Phoebe said _wisely_– or as Sid so eloquently put it– like a crack head with a withdrawal symptom. "But since I'm in a particularly good mood, I'll let you in on a secret. You see, the two young Pataki sisters only have one weakness and one weakness alone. And it goes by the name of chocolate– oh and Pink Chocolate."

"Pink Chocolate?

Phoebe nodded her head vigorously. "Yea I guess I'll have to get Helga to show it to you one of these day."

"Oh."

Phoebe turned her attention back onto the field where the cheerleaders and marching band began to do perform their routine. Phoebe always enjoyed the halftime show; the cheerleading routines were really good.

_I guess that's what Rhonda, Kamelia, and Lila concentrate their one existing brain on doing...Hmmm... well at least it's not half bad to watch, but Wayside performance are much better._

Crinshaw crushed Cornwell with a final score of 41 to 27. Of course there was some celebrating on the field, which was carried on into the locker room, but not for long. The football players wanted to hurry and get to the real after party celebration.

It was customary that Rhonda, Lila, or Kaylia and Kamelia throw a party at their large houses after a Spartan victory. This time, it was Lila's turn, and Lila's parties tended to be on the overly wild side. The music was always loud, there were always extra rooms for couples to– as Sid would put it– _play_, and Lila was always able to get her hands on alcohol or whatever the guest wanted.

Arnold entered the Sawyer's large house with an arm wrapped around his girlfriend's waist .

"Good job out there tonight, Arnold." Mr. Sawyer said hitting Arnold on his back.

"Thank you, Mr. Sawyer."

"How many times have I told you to call me Tom, Arnold." He playfully tapped his daughter's chin and Lila gave her father a fake laugh, Arnold was expert on Lila's I'm-An-Angel Laugh, but figured it was better not to comment. "Now you guys have fun. I'm going out for a while so don't expect me back until late, sweet pea."

There was also another reason why Lila's parties were always wild. Her father always left the house during his daughter's party time and after year full of Lila's parties, Arnold was pretty sure that Mr. Sawyer left on purpose. After all, how many times can you come home to a basement full of empty beer bottles, rumpled up beds, and bras hanging off ceiling fans, and not figure something went on the night before. Mr. Sawyer probably knew Arnold and Lila did more than just make out during the parties. But Arnold was also pretty sure, Mr. Sawyer didn't care. Mr. Sawyer was a Crinshaw Spartans fan and to him Arnold was a god among men, so who was he to say that his daughter couldn't do what she wanted to do with a god?

Well, he could, but he didn't. After all, no one wanted to invoke the wrath of a god, right?

"Okay daddy."

Mr. Sawyer left through the front door and Lila ordered for Vincent, one of the Spartans' burliest players to act as a bouncer, and of course the guy did. Lila was dating Arnold and no one messed with Crinshaw's super couple.

Arnold and Lila proceeded to the basement that was filled with Crinshaw's absolute elite. Loud music was blasting from four large stereos sitting in each corner of the rectangular room, some couples were making out on the sofas, some couples looked like they were on their way to doing more than making out, some people were dancing, some people who were already drunk, and some people were on their way to getting drunk.

As Arnold and Lila walked further and further into the room, Arnold saw Kamelia and Gerald making out– not as if he was surprised since the couple never seemed to be able to take their arms off each other, if they could help it– he also saw some brunette sitting on Sid's lap flirting with him, Sid, being the natural flirt that he was, was flirting back with her, but Arnold could see the highlighted disinterest in his friend's eyes.

Obviously, the girl didn't.

Wolfgang was talking to some blonde who was batting her eyes profusely and Harold and Rhonda were conveniently missing from the party.

Arnold knew exactly where Lila was leading him. She opened a door with a smile on her face that Arnold shared. As soon as Arnold entered the room and closed it behind him, Lila pounced on him. Her lips glued onto his with her legs wrapped around his waist. Arnold's smile widened against Lila's lips, after all, he did play good tonight.

**(Y/L)**

I'm sure you've all figure out by now that I do not own Hey Arnold! Due to the obvious non-corruption of the show. But then again, there are some scenes that Arnold doesn't have any pants on... Thank Demile, blazing wickedness, Thea, Sakuyaku-chan, Starry-Eyez888, XxXCocoPuffXxX, and BellaMay76 the kind reviews.

PS:

_Thea, _welp.. I was going to leave it as a surprise but, the story is– END TRANSMISSION.

I probably should just leave this PS like this, but since I'm feeling like a nice person, I'll say the story will include a Helga and Gerald romance... alright, fine, I'll tell the truth. It will include a Helga and Arnold relationship, of what type, I don't know… all jokes aside.

_BellaMay76_, Helga does respond. When she is feeling especially cheeky, but she finds it more fun to torture Sid and make him blush.

Click the shiny review button... you know you wanna... but you also want a cool drink of Fanta (which I also don't own)... Decisions, decisions.

S.L. Cipher _(Who accepts all criticisms, reviews, praises, and flames with a smile)_

Published_: If I were you, I'd ask Bob,... which is actually my beanie pillow, who's named after Bob Marley not Bob Pataki, he might know..._

Edited: 7 05

Re-edited: 12 05


	5. The Past Is Gone

Everyone changes with time. A day, a week, a month, a year... they all count. So how much can a group of rag tag 4th graders from P.S. 118 change with junior high, high school, and a whole bunch of history between those seven years? A whole lot.

**Years Later**

_The Past Is Gone_

On Monday morning that followed the defeat of the Cornwell Falcons, the _mighty _Spartan football players strutted down Crinshaw's hallways. They all received large welcomes and congratulations, even if their feet had never touched the football field outside of practice, from teachers, students, and fan clubs— which so happened to be made out of teachers and students. Especially _The Golden Ones_, because... well just because they were _The Golden One_s, there really wasn't a need to explain why the got higher praise… it was fairly obvious… wasn't it?

On that same exact day, Phoebe Heyerdahl jetted down the empty hallways of Crinshaw High School in a full sprint to her fifth period class, listening as the empty hall was filled with sound of the late bell ringing. _Dammit… I knew I should've listened to Helga about not taking Sid's shortcut, but no, I just had to try it out! This shouldn't even be considered a shortcut at all. Why is Helga always right at the worst possible moments?_

Fortunately for Phoebe, back in junior high she was one of the fastest sprinters on the track team, unfortunately, she had lost her edge to a certain addiction that tended to turn people's lungs an attractive shade resembling smoked hickory. Smoked hickory that had been left on a fire for about twelve months then dumped into a vat of tar, of course.

Phoebe turned the corner and ran straight into something, or rather, someone.

Not braced for the impact, the small teenager fell backwards and landed on her back. Meanwhile, her books flew out of her hands as its contents went streaming in various directions across the hallway and her glasses decided to go flying off her face, only to land somewhere near the mysterious person's feet.

_Dammit … this must be some type of karmic retribution to when I took the last piece of cake and lied about it to Sid and Helga last night… there is no other logical explanation…_

Phoebe automatically said sorry as she set herself to gathering all of her belongings, and as she did so, she could hear the mysterious roadblock move to help her. When the person picked up Phoebe's French textbook and notebook and held them out for her, Phoebe caught a glance at the persons' hands and she did the best "_Phoebe-ish"_ thing she could do in this type of situation.

She froze.

Yes, she froze and stared at the hands of Mr.— yes, MR.— Roadblock, thinking ruefully to herself, how she would never ever forget those hands. Oh yes, she knew those hands, it's not like she could actually forget, after taking so much time to admire them. They were a smooth dark caramel complexion on rather rough looking hands, but had a strong shape to them— not to bony, not to skinny, just right to pick someone up and carry them when accidentally broke the straps of their sandals during a summer rain storm. The shape was accentuated by long fingers that had bitten fingernails— something that had once thought of as endearing, but now just found plain annoying, even though she was quite guilty of the bad habit herself during periods of extreme pressure…

_So I see he hasn't gotten out of the nail biting habit. I guess some things don't change... even if the person has._

Although her vision was blurry, in her minds eye she could follow the large hand to a muscled arm to a shoulder to the neck to the face of the one and only Gerald Johanssen.

"Uh... hello Phoebe." He smiled nervously at her. She could tell it wasn't a real smile because she could only see one dimple, which wasn't even fully showing; whenever he was really smiling both his deep dimpled indents could be seen in full glory.

Phoebe said hello back knowing it was polite thing to say and because she knew that there was nothing further to be said she immediately went back to gathering her papers and books, fully aware that a pair of dark brown eyes were observing her.

Gerald watched the small female, half Asian, half whatever the other half was— he remembered that at one point she told him that her mother was half French, half Italian… at least that was what he thought he remembered. After realizing that he was basically gawking, he decided to pick up her glasses. He remembered when she first bought them back in ninth grade and showed them off to him, even going so far as to give him a glasses fashion show, but that was a long time ago. Gerald studied the rimless glasses for a minute or so longer before his attention wandered to the glasses owner. Phoebe Heyerdahl was still the same height as he remembered, but then again, she had not grown since sixth grade.

_Kammie is only slightly taller than her, but only by a few inches._

Her pale hands were quickly picking up her papers and placing them in a blue folder.

_Blue, that's her favorite color, Kammie's favorite color too_. Gerald thought almost absentmindedly.

Phoebe could feel his eyes on her, but she chose to ignore them letting her eyes be hidden by her long hair. Her hair was falling out of the loose ponytail she had haphazardly put it in during Chemistry and some rebellious strands persisted on falling onto her face, but right now, she didn't mind.

_She's wearing a dark blue _Wïngs _t-shirt– her favorite brand– light blue jeans, and white sneakers. She's so conservative compared to Kammie... but why am I comparing her and Kammie? _

Gerald caught a glimpse of the total of eight silver studs decorating the rim on both of her ears and was almost shocked.

_Almost_ being the operative word.

He was pretty sure that Helga convinced her to get the extra holes. Even though Helga did not have the most piercings in the school, to the junior grade of Crinshaw she was considered _The Piercing Queen_. Around Phoebe's neck there was a silver necklace with a semi-circle hanging of the thin chain. Gerald caught the engraved intials of '_P.G.H_' with a B and half of an F resting underneath.

Gerald was pretty sure that somewhere in the school was a blonde pinked streaked haired girl wearing a similar necklace with the initials '_H.G.P_' with the other half of the F and another F standing next to it.

Gerald had zoned out but he didn't really notice, until he saw a pale hand outstretched palms up, in front of his face. It took him a moment to realize that Phoebe was waiting for him to hand her something. Gerald saw that she had her French books, so what else did she need?

That was when he looked straight into the slanted almond eyes that looked black to an unobservant person. But Gerald knew better than any other person that her eyes were definitely not black. He could see the dark blue flecks in eyes as she stared at him, but there was something missing from her face. _She was missing her–_

Glasses. Phoebe was missing her glass. They very same glasses that sat in his hand. Instead of handing them back to her, like the small female fully expected to, Gerald opened them up and gently slid them back onto Phoebe's face. He pushed some ink black strands out of her face and behind her ear, not really noticing, or rather, pretending not to notice the small female wince at his actions.

"Your hair," Gerald paused not sure what he really wanted to say or what he meant to say, and somehow he could not help but feel flustered with a pair of dark blue eyes staring at him intently. I remember how you used to talk about doing it back in junior high..." Gerald reached out once more and twirled a lock around his index finger before he withdrew his hand from the soft hair.

Phoebe remained frozen throughout the process, like an oversized glass doll. "Thank you." Phoebe got up from the ground and Gerald followed the suit. Just as she was prepared to walk past him, Gerald reached out and grabbed Phoebe's hand. While Phoebe could have just snatched her hand away and kept walking, she didn't. Helga was right, sometimes she was just too nice to people, Helga really was always right at the worst possible moments.

"I– I'm sorry… it just... and I'm really sorry Phoebe."

Phoebe gently pulled her hand out of Gerald's grip. "Why should I forgive you—"

Gerald's jaw tightened. "I know I deserve tha–"

"You didn't let me finish what I was saying Gerald. You've always were too impatient to let people finish talking." Phoebe shook her head and sighed. "What I was trying to say is, why should I forgive you, when there is nothing that you need to be forgiven for?"

"But–"

"That's all in the past Gerald. Leave the past where it is. The past." Phoebe sighed once again. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a class to get to and I'm already late. Unlike some people, I actually have to show up to a class to get credit."

Phoebe walked away from the now brooding Gerald and got to her French class six minutes late. Mr. Jenkins, a fair but strict teacher, gave her detention– even if Phoebe was one his best students.

She was no exception to the rules.

**(Y/L)**

The day finally came to the much needed break known as lunch to much of the population of Crinshaw. It was finally seventh period, so Phoebe, Helga, and Sid took their regular seats at a round table in the back of the cafeteria, conveniently located near the candy and soda machines. Sheena was joining them today (_"Hey Sid, _look _who I found to _help _with my Geometry homework! Now I won't have to bother Phoebe!") _instead of sitting at a table with Thaddeus, Eugene, and a girl nicknamed Red.

Phoebe sat in her traditional seat next to Helga, halfheartedly eating her salad. Helga looked at her friend worriedly. Phoebe loved to eat the macadamia and chicken salad, even though they all agreed that the salad was probably poisonous. Even Sid, who was well known to prone cases of serious obviousness in Sheena's presence, noticed that something was wrong.

"Is everything okay, Phoebe?" Helga asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence around the table.

Phoebe twirled a finger around a strand of her hair. "Nope. I was just thinking of getting my hair cut, that's all."

Sheena immediately took action and began to ask Phoebe if she was considering donating it to any charities. Phoebe smiled and began a conversation with the brunette about charities and hair cutting; meanwhile her two friends shared a look. One of those looks that friends shared. A look that meant everything they wanted and needed to say in the few seconds that their eyes connected. They both knew how much Phoebe treasured her hair, so what in the world could make the girl want to cut the hair she struggled to grow out and constantly cared for?

**(Y/L)**

Helga tugged on her oversized worn out Steelers jersey over her gray sweat pants before she closed the lock around her gym locker. As she exited the girl's locker room she caught sight of something red, green, blonde, and gray from the corner of her eye.

It was Lila and Arnold making out on the water fountain that she took a drink from everyday before heading out to meet up with her gym class.

_Just effing perfect. Now I can't drink my water because the fountain may be contaminated from who knows what fluid. _

She _hmmphed _in disgust and the couple broke apart from their embrace, looking to see who interrupted their moment.

Arnold wrapped an arm around Lila's waist, while she crossed her arms and glared at Helga– almost as if she thought it would make her disappear into thin air. Helga looked back at Lila unfazed by the glare—she had seen better glares from a monkey … no joke, she really had seen better glares from a monkey when she and her mother visited the Bronx Zoo one day.

"Hello freak."

Helga gave Lila a low mock bow. "Good day High Queen of Snobbery! How may I show my utmost disgust for you today, your royal pain in the ass?"

"I don't know how a guy like Sid can actually stand to be in your presence."

"Easily." Helga said lowering her voice as if she were about to share a secret with the red head, "You see, sometimes people actually like to hold intelligent conversations rather than talking to some trained doll who probably couldn't add two plus two."

Helga smiled as Lila moved to attack her, but Miss. Jones, the cheerleading coach, some accidental intervention, called the redhead into her office. Lila gave Arnold a territorial kiss before she slunk into Miss. Jones' office, but not before she shoved past Helga… even though there was enough room for her to pass the blonde without touching her.

Helga snorted. What did Lila think she was going to do? Kidnap Arnold? Make him into her sex slave or something? Highly unlikely, why would she waste her precious time and breathe to do that when she already had her owned two sex slaves… three if she counted Sid… why would she want hers?

"Jealous Helga?" Arnold asked.

Helga turned around and just looked at Arnold for moment. "Of what?"

"Of Lila, of course."

Helga rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "Yes. You've discovered my deepest and darkest secret. I've always wanted to be an easy bimbo who has a wit of a flounder. Just please don't tell anyone about the pompoms that I use to secretly practice cheerleading routines in or the red wig a don every night as I practice these routines, every night before I go to bed." Helga snorted. "Yea right. What does she have that I would be jealous of?"

Arnold stepped closer to Helga and looked her straight in the eye. "Me. You had a crush on me. And maybe you still do."

"_Used to_ are the operative words in that sentence. If I had known how much of an annoying pompous bastard you've turned out to be, I wouldn't have wasted my time."

"What did you just say?"

"Don't act as if you're suddenly hard of hearing. You heard me, I said, if I had known how much of an annoying pompous bastard you've would turned out to be, I wouldn't have wasted my time."

"So you're hiding your unrequited feelings for me now?" Arnold asked smugly, purposely annoying Helga. Pink dots appeared on Helga's cheeks and for a moment, just for one brief moment, Arnold thought she was blushing. Arnold began to smile and say something, but Helga punched him dead in the mouth. At least that was where it would have been if Arnold had not turned his face in time. "What the fuck was that for?" Arnold exclaimed as he placed a hand on his right cheek, he knew that a tooth or two had been seriously rattled.

"I felt like doing that from time Hillwood dubbed you, Harold, Gerald and Sid—yes even Sid— gods! You all think you're the shit now, don't you! You know what I'm gonna tell you the truth. YOU AREN'T! And you know what, I don't really give a flying shit if you tell anyone what I'm about to say.

"This town has deified all of you! They live their dreams through you, feeling your head's with hopes, dreams, and delusions, telling you that you're all the greatest, all the best. They treat you like fucking royalty, but don't give a shit about anyone else. While you guys got to go to the Super Bowl last year by first class train, the track team had to be chauffeured by their parents to each fucking meet. You remember Stan, or rather Stinky like we used to call him. He's led this school's basketball team to championships. But does anyone care? NO! Does anyone care that he's being scouted by Duke? By Columbia? Georgetown? North Carolina? By any of the schools that have been scouting him since he was a sophomore? No! Because-They-Only-Care-About-You-Pompous-Jerks!" Helga accentuated each word with a jab to Arnold's chest with her index finger.

"You walk around here in your varsity jackets having everyone bow at your feet, smile or frown at your whim. They tell you you're great you believe you're great, they tell you you're invincible, you believe you're great. Question, have any Crinshaw player actually made it in the NFL?" Arnold opened his mouth. "No they haven't! Andertine got involved with drugs and got kicked out because he couldn't deal with the real world! And Pole got arrested straight out of college. But I'm gonna clue you in on something. All this treatment you're getting now. Don't expect it forever. As soon as you get out in the real world, this town will forget about you! You'll just be something of the past, while another Golden Team will step up and fill in the blanks you left. You'll fail out in the real world and you'll come crawling back to Hillwood to sit in the stands with every fucking idiot in this town and cheer on the Spartans. Living through them vicariously, like others once did to you, because Football is King!"

Helga took a deep calming breath. "You used to be a nice person. A bit of a nosy do-gooder, but at least back then, you had morals. All of us used to be somewhat of a group of… well, I guess friends. We've grown apart into different worlds into different people. But then again, I guess that's what time does. Change people. Some for the better," Helga gave Arnold a glance full of revulsion. "Some for the worse. I can't deal with looking at you, I'm going to class." And that's how Helga left Arnold, leaning against a fountain that he had just been making out on with his girlfriend barely moments ago. He had just been chewed out by a girl who used to be the childhood bully and there were no words in the English dictionary that could actually describe all the thoughts and feelings that were left floating in his mind.

**(Y/L)**

I do not own Hey Arnold! I've been waiting to write the last scene for a good minute. It didn't turn out the same way I wanted it to, but it will have to do... Thank you Sakuyaku-chan, Starry-Eyez888, HunGuy, XxXCocoPuffXxX, BellaMay76, and sevenleafclovergrl-7 for the wonderful reviews.

PS:

HunGuy, while I'm not done with the funness (must remember to have this word added to the dictionary) of reality, there will be more happy moments. Gee this chapter doesn't even have a happy moment. Oh well, next chapter will have lots of Flirting-Pervert!Sid to put back some comedy into YL.

Click the shiny review button, it likes to be clicked... but it also likes long moonlit walks in the park... be warned it also likes commitments... Review buttons, can't live with them, can't live without them.

S.L. Cipher _(Who will gladly accept all criticisms, advice, reviews, praises, and flames with a large Cheshire Cat like smile)_

Published: _I dunno..._

Edited: 7 05

Re-edited: 12 05


	6. Locks of Midnight

Everyone changes with time. A day, a week, a month, a year... they all count. So how much can a group of rag tag 4th graders from P.S. 118 change with junior high, high school, and a whole bunch of history between those seven years? A whole lot.

**Years Later**

_Locks of Midnight_

It was one of those lazy Sunday afternoons, where a person should be able to lie in bed all day and do nothing, worry about nothing, and simply be nothing. Helga G. Pataki was lucky enough to be one of those people who were nothing, at least almost. Patty did not give her the graveyard shift the night before, but Patty did bestow onto Helga the _prized_ early bird shift earlier that morning... which was probably why Miss. Pataki was stuck in the limbo of the waking world and the sleeping world.

Helga knew what she was supposed to be doing in the waking world; she was supposed to be starting her health homework. However, Helga she found it more entertaining to lie on her back, on top of Phoebe's bed and stare at the star painted ceiling. Helga had put in her favorite mix of disco and oldies songs in Phoebe's stereo without permission, again, but she knew Phoebe wouldn't mind. In fact Phoebe would probably be more worried than pissed, a highly rare occurrence to those who knew Phoebe G. Heyerdahl. Phoebe had a theory that Helga was not from this era and sometimes she even went so far as to say Helga was not even from the Earth... which was always promptly answered with a pillow connecting with Phoebe's face.

At any rate, Helga did not have to worry about Phoebe for a little while because her friend was downstairs gathering some _snackage_, snacks in _Phoebe Speak_, while Hilda watched a plethora of _Princess Powder Puff_ DVDs straight from a combination of Sid's and Phoebe's collections. Helga shuddered to think what her younger sister would be like after she watched all of the episodes— the words hyperactive, explosive, and downright scary came to her mind.

Helga had finally surrendered to the weights pulling down on her eyelids when she heard the familiar sound of Phoebe's door creaking open.

Helga scrambled to sit up on sit up on the bed, but continued to keep her eyes clamped shut. "I promise Pheebs, this is not what it looks like, I'm just letting my eyes have a break... really. Page one of the health worksheet is almost done."

When Helga did not hear a snide reply from Phoebe, she figured that either her best friends bought her crappy excuse— a very low and unlikely possibility— or was bestowing sympathy upon her tired best friend— also a very low and unlikely possibility considering the fact that Phoebe was a dictator when it came to doing homework. Whatever happened to be the case, Helga definitely did not care, because that meant she could relax and catch up on the sleep that she was sorely missing. She settled herself back into her prior position on the bed and was continuing to doze of to the sleeping world when she felt the bed dip at Phoebe's weight.

_'Did Phoebe gain some pounds? She seems a bit heavy, the bed is dipping more than usual... guess that means she should stay away from all that junk food she's brought... and let me have it instead.' _Helga smiled inwardly at the pleasant thought. She did not stop smiling until she felt something or rather someone over her face and felt that person tugging her legs.

Her blue eyes whipped open to catch the sneaky grin settling on Sid's face.

Helga frowned, "You're not Phoebe."

"By Scot, you're right! Helga, with your deductive skills you could be a _great _detective."

"Oh, shut up." Helga playfully punched Sid in the arm. "Now what are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be out partying at some airhead's birthday party?"

Sid pouted. "I get bored very easily... no one to talk about fun stuff with, no one to make fun of people with... no fun period. So I decided to come over and steal you and Pheebs' health answers."

Helga rolled her eyes. "Well aren't you a sweetie."

Sid took the opportunity to bury his face in the nape of Helga's neck before he nuzzled it. "I know I am." Sid also decided to take the time to conveniently place Helga's legs by his waist. "Well, since you and I are all alone, why don't you and I have some fun."

Helga merely raised an eyebrow.

Sid raised his head from the comfortable position he was in to look Helga in her eyes. "You know you wanna." Sid wiggling his eyebrows suggestively to put an emphasis on his point.

Helga smirked before she wrapped her legs around Sid's waist and used them to pull him closer to her. She dropped her voice to a husky level and licked her lips slowly. "Like this?"

"Yes, very good. Now," He placed his palms by the sides of Helga's head. "For some well warranted fun." Sid began to lower his face closer to Helga's.

The door opened to reveal one very amused Phoebe Heyerdahl. "Now, now, now, what have I told you two about having wild monkey sex on my bed?"

Sid and Helga shared a look before they turned their attention to the small teenager holding the treasure dubbed snackage. "Um... not to do it?"

"Exactly, so if you don't mind Mr. Gifaldi, can you please remove your body off of Miss. Pataki's?"

Sid immaturely stuck his tongue out. "Uh-uh. She was willing to play today and I, for one, will not let this golden opportunity pass by!" Helga laughed before she let her teeth graze Sid's earlobe. Sid growled. "Woman, don't do things like that when I am trying to talk some sense into Phoebe!"

"What did Helga do?"

"Nothing Pheebs, I think Sid's imagining things." Helga said as she unwrapped her legs from around Sid and pushed him off her. She rolled off the bed and walked over to grab a handful of triple chocolate cookies. "Did you bring the scissors?"

Phoebe produced a pair of silver hair scissors with golden finger holes. "Tada!"

Sid stretched out on Phoebe's bed like a cat sunning outside. "What's that for?"

Phoebe turned around with a small knowing smile. "Helga's gonna cut my hair."

"What…you're kidding me, right?"

Helga shook her head 'no'.

"But Phoebe, you've always said that your hair is like a treasure to you!"

"Well," Phoebe shrugged her shoulders carelessly. "Things change and it's time to let go of the past... plus I need a new hairstyle."

Sid threw Phoebe a look but said nothing more.

He knew what this was about.

Helga knew what this was about.

He also knew that there was nothing that could be said or done by himself or Helga— who had apparently already surrendered to do Phoebe's bidding.

"Alright Brat, go sit in the chair in front of the mirror."

Phoebe silently followed Helga's order before she felt something leaning against her back and head. She looked up into the mirror in front of her and saw Helga resting her elbows on her shoulder with her pale chin resting on her head as Helga's pale blonde locks mixed with her own dark hair. "Are you sure about this?"

Phoebe drew in a long breath before she exhaled. "I've never been so sure about something in my life."

Helga gave Phoebe's shoulders a supportive squeeze before she took the scissors from Phoebe's pale hands. "Alright then."

Phoebe tilted her head and directed her gaze at the ground as she heard the sharp snipping of her the scissors meeting her hair. "How short do you want?"

Phoebe pointed to desired place and there was an audible intake of breath from Sid. "But Pheebs I understand why, but don't you think that this a little drasti–"

"No, Helga... I want my hair that length. It's time from me to move on from this haircut. This one is getting old and boring."

"Whatever you say, my dear." Helga sighed. "I mean, after all, it is your hair."

Locks of midnight fell to the ground hazardously. Curling. Twisting. Bunching together. And even with all her pride and bravado telling her not to, Phoebe could sense the tears dwelling in her eyes. She clamped her eyelids shut, blocking out whatever her conscience was telling, instead she took deep and shallow breaths letting her pride and joy fall to her feet in large bulks.

Seconds turned into minutes and minutes turned into a whole half of an hour before Helga said, "Done."

Phoebe looked in the mirror and twirled what was left of her hair that at some areas could probably not even wrap around her pinky. The tears were coming and there was nothing she could about them. Helga enfolded the smaller teen in her arms from behind and rested her head next to Phoebe's. "It looks beautiful on you."

With red puffy eyes, a pink nosed, and rose colored flushed cheeks, Phoebe smiled brightly. "It does, doesn't it?"

**(Y/L)**

Her hair was short... possibly the shortest it had ever been since she had left elementary. Hell, it was even shorter than it had been when she was in kindergarten. Phoebe Heyerdahl never thought she would ever see the day that her hair was short again. Unfortunately for her Lady Fate had other plans.

Her hair was now shaped into a boyish feminine shag. Her bangs—yes Helga gave her bangs— swept across her forehead, but they kept falling into her eyes every opportunity they got. The only real advantage Phoebe could see with her new haircut was the fact that now her studded ears could be seen more clearly... which wasn't such a bad plus.

Phoebe walked into Crinshaw High School with her head held high and many people staring at her. Her hair after all was notorious for being the longest within the school.

Nadine looked at Phoebe shell shocked. "You finally cut your hair?"

Phoebe shrugged her shoulders slightly. "It was a spur of the moment thing."

"Oh. Short hair looks real nice on you."

"Thanks." Phoebe smiled and continued on the way to her locker, but not without many stops because of very curious people who wanted to know about why she cut her hair. And to which she always answered, _"It was a spur of the moment thing." _and everyone believed her.

When she finally got to her locker she saw Helga leaning against her own locker, looking highly amused. Helga crossed her arms over her pink _'LunarLanding'_ t-shirt and smiled brightly.

"Enjoying your newfound fame?"

"Hahaha! A pun about my shirt. You have really outdone yourself this time, Pataki." Phoebe said, knowing that her best friend was referring to her shirt from the company named _NewFoundFame_, _NFF_ for short. "Where _do _you get these burst of _genius_ that you so frequently get?"

"It's absolutely pure and unadulterated talent. It was bestowed upon me when I was just a young wee babe, don'tcha know." Helga said as she smirked at Phoebe. "Plus you know how much I despise _NFF_."

"Yea I know... But that doesn't mean a thing to me! But all this hullabaloo about my hair is starting to get to me."

Helga raised an eyebrow. "Did you just say _hullabaloo_?"

Phoebe thought back to what she had just said and grimace. "I did... I think I really need a cig."

"Tut, tut, tut, I thought we were going to quit together!"

"Oh please. I saw that new, freshly opened pack in your room last night."

Helga fingered her newly cut hair– which she cut for Phoebe's sake. Although her hair cut wasn't as extreme as Phoebe's, it was still an appreciated gesture. Helga's hair was no longer two different lengths, now the blonde and pink haired girl's hair fell about one inch past her shoulder. Her pink streaks were getting pale and her hair was going back to its original blonde_ 'Looks like this weekend I'll be doing my hair.'_

"Yea, I couldn't be bothered to this weekend–"

Phoebe opened her locker. "Or the last–"

"Or the one before that–"

Phoebe gathered her books and closed her locker with a loud slam. "Oh well."

"But I can understand your annoyance. With everyone basically saying,_ 'Phoebe, like, your hair, it's like gone. Did you cut it!' _I mean what do they expect you to say? _'Really, I hadn't noticed that I'm missing 24 inches of hair... but thank you for noticing and telling me! Now I may go mourn my loss properly.'_ Give me some semblance of a break here. Never mind, it would be easier to ask for some air, considering we go to a school full of airheads. Being in this school in this school is very frustrating!"

Phoebe laughed, or rather giggled— at least that's what Sid and Helga accused her of. "Now, now, Helga please do remember not to get worked up. Do think about your poor blood pressure."

Helga playfully elbowed Phoebe in her side. "Now, now, Phoebe please do remember to thoroughly think about what you say before you open your mouth. Do think about your poor mouth."

"Do shut up."

"No, I think I'd rather not."

"C'mon, Pink Punster, we should start heading to first period."

"Alright, Blue Brat, drag me off into Airhead Central, shows how much of a friend you really are, you traitor!"

Phoebe grabbed Helga's book free hand and began to tug her down the hallway, towards room 204. "It isn't that bad."

A blonde eyebrow shot up. "Would you like to replay those unwise words within your head? Certain persons within our class think that _1984 _is some brand name for clothes, _Oedipus _is a college frat boy movie, _Hamlet _is a type of expensive food, and _A Canticle for Leibowitz _is just too big of a title for them to understand. And this is not even skimming the surface of the problem. How in the nine layers of Hades' Underworld did they get into Language Arts _Honors_?"

"Helga," Phoebe said with her voice tinged with a forbidding warning. "If you keep talking like this I may get very, very, upset. Don't make me sic Pink Princess Puff on you."

Helga simply rolled her eyes and dragged her heels. "Oh please," She paused for a moment in deep thought about something. "And I would just like to let you know that, that crap has spread like a vile, infectious, evil, malevolent, viscous disease to my younger sister. I am now officially burning in the ninth layer of hell, _thanks_."

"No problem, anytime! Now stop dragging your damn feet."

"But I _don't _wanna go."

"Too freaking bad, you're going, so there!"

"The only thing redeemable about the class is our projects... and the books we read... and Mr. Simmons is not a half bad teacher. I've always wondered if his first name is Richard."

"You're so random."

"I know. Do you think Principle McNielson will let me paint my locker pink? "

"Argh!" Phoebe gave up trying to pull Helga all the way to their first period class and stomped away with the taller teen laughing at her as she trailed behind her. Phoebe cursed Helga under her breath.

"Now, now, now, Pheebs you very well know that I am a legitimate child and am not a female dog with some stick stuck up the hole of my behind... and I would rather you did not talk about the hole in my behind like that."

"You are so arghalicious!"

"I know and you love me for it." Helga laughed at Phoebe's frustration as they kept on walking, neither of them noticing the two pairs of eyes watching them.

**(Y/L)**

I do believe by now that it is obvious by now that I don't own Hey Arnold! (But I will own the world one day). Thank you Thea, xandiira, Smoking Panda, Starry-Eyez888, BellaMay76, XxXCocoPuffXxX, Sonia, Demile, Justin T. Melanson, Angel Lily, Ryoko2025, Amber Stag, Yumes, Leona, and Linda for all the wonderful and encouraging reviews.

PS:

Justin T. Melanson, are you tapping into your other 90 of your brain and reading my thoughts and ideas? And if you are, can you teach me how to do it?

Click the shiny review button, it's nice and shiny and red... well maybe not red– but it is shiny.

S.L. Cipher _(Who will gladly accept all criticisms, advice, reviews, praises, and flames with a large Cheshire Cat like smile just because she can)_

Published: _Yo no se..._

Edited: 7 22 05


	7. The Funk

Everyone changes with time. A day, a week, a month, a year... they all count. So how much can a group of rag tag 4th graders from P.S. 118 change with junior high, high school, and a whole bunch of history between those seven years? A whole lot.

**Years Later**

_The Funk_

It was girls' night at 1422 L Street.

A night that was strictly celebrated by the younger Pataki sisters, Helga and Hilda, plus one Phoebe Heyerdahl, but it wasn't this Friday night. This Friday night it was strictly a Pataki sisters event, Phoebe was being forced to attend some charity ball with her parents _("Just because I, in quote out quote _'chopped off my hair without permission...' _Since when have I ever asked them for permission for anything since I entered junior high? They are both freaking workaholicing arghalicious baboons!" "You do realize workaholicing is not a word right?" "Shut up, you arghalicious baboon!" "I guess I should be grateful that I'm not a _workaholicing_ arghalicious baboon, _right_?" "Oh, just shove it!")_.

Pumping in the background was loud music of the 70s, 80s, 90s, and even some music from foreign countries were thrown into the music, all in all, reflecting Helga's very unique and all over the place music taste. Luckily Bob was out working late at Big Bob's Beepers, so there was no need for Helga and Hilda to worry about the noise level of the loud stereo system.

Helga had just finished painting Hilda's fingernails and toenails purple when the 1st grader decided that she wanted to jump up and down on Helga's bed. Helga knew that the pretty flower design on the little girl's toenails was virtually a goner, but Helga didn't mind– in fact she joined her. A timer went off on Helga's dresser and Helga jumped off her bed and landed on the ground gracefully.

Hilda stopped jumping to clap for Helga. "9.8."

"What happened to the .2?"

"_Your execution was not up to par_," Hilda smirked "But not everyone is a grand champion gold medal winner at the Bedapult." Hilda in turn, did her own jump off the bed, and then bowed at her waist. "And that's how you get a prefect 10.0."

Helga rolled her eyes and playfully shoved her younger sister. "You mean perfect... and I dare say that you need to stop talking to Phoebe and Sid, I see their vocabulary and cockiness are rubbing off on you."

Helga walked out into the hallway with Hilda trailing behind her. "_By Scot_, I think you're right... has anyone ever told you that you should be a detective?"

Helga looked down at the petite girl with a mixture of amusement and shock written on her face.

Hilda raised an eyebrow, unconsciously, although there was a rather large percentage in Helga's mind that she was doing it consciously, mirroring one of Helga's infamous looks. "Ye—es Helgs?"

"I shudder at this brainwashing of my own sister. I'm going to kill Sid... and maybe Phoebe too. Probably not her, she does serve some purpose, plus after I'm arrested and sent to jail for first degree murder, someone will have to take care of Hilda," Helga muttered to her self as she opened the bathroom door.

"I can hear you. Are you going crazy?" Hilda said as she danced around her sister's legs.

Purposely ignoring her sister comment, Helga walked into the bathroom. "I'm gonna wash my hair alright Pixie, so you go back to my room and if the alarm for the pizza oven goes off, turn off the oven and leave the pizza, if the doorbell rings, come and get me. Don't answer the door."

"Alright!" Hilda bounced off to Helga's room happily— after all, she knew exactly where Helga hid her large chocolate stash.

Helga proceeded to wash out her hair. Afterwards she pulled out a blow dryer and dried her hair before she got a chance to see the finished product. Her hair was basically pink with only her bangs being a few shades lighter than her normal blonde color– it sort of leaned towards platinum blonde. The pink was a mix between the two colors Helga normally bought for her hair– Bodacious Bubblegum Pink and Nearly Neon Pink. Satisfied she went back to her room to see one Hilda Pataki sitting on her bed playing with Pink Chocolate with a pepperoni and extra cheese pizza pie on a large plate with one slice missing next to an opened big bottle of Sprite and dozens of chocolate wrappers on the floor.

All Helga could do was stare.

She didn't know what to address first.

Putting her priorities in order, Helga decided to deal with the Pink Chocolate issue first.

Hilda was plucking at the strings of Helga's maple pink and brown Fender Jag Stang guitar nicknamed Pink Chocolate, the guitar was her second oldest and was the only one out of her three guitars she had actually bought herself. Her rosewood red and white Fender Stratocaster USA named Cherry Swirl was a gift from Phoebe and Sid on her 14th birthday and her black Dreadnought Maple Ibanez V70— her only acoustic guitar— was given to her by her mother.

Pink Chocolate was making a horrible "twing" sound, instead of her normal "twang" sound, every time Hilda plucked a string and all Helga could do was grimace.

"Pixie?"

The small first grader looked up at her sister with an innocent smile. "Hello."

"I'm just going to take a wild guess here and say that you were just _checking _to see if Pink Chocolate was in tune." Helga asked with one raised eyebrow. Ever since the beginning of the summer, _checking _was Hilda's excuse every time Helga found her trying to play her guitar.

Hilda nodded vigorously.

Helga rolled her eyes and went to go pick up Noir, the black Ibanez, and sat down next to Hilda on her bed. She placed Hilda's small hands and fingers in the proper position before her own hands held her guitar in the same exact way, something that just happened automatically. "Let me show you some techniques on how to _check _for the proper tune."

**(Y/L)**

On Monday morning, by the time sixth period rolled around, Helga was used to the stares everyone was giving her and her hair.

_You would think by now they would be used to me dying my hair._

Helga took her usually seat and waited for Phoebe to arrive from her French class and Sid to come from his locker.

Phoebe from the right entrance of the cafeteria and Sid from the left.

Almost as if by cue, Helga could see the doors on the left and right doors of cafeteria open to reveal her two friends as they walked across the cafeteria to throw down their books on the table before they both ceremoniously plopped themselves down in their appropriate chairs.

It did not take long for Sid, who was known by many as 'The Bottomless Iron Stomach', to notice that Helga did not have a lunch tray in front of her. "You on some diet?"

Helga shook her head no. "I just don't want to find out what's in the Monday Surprise... somehow I'm sure it's probably grade D meat mixed with some gym mat stuffing for extra flavor."

Phoebe wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Sounds absolutely _appetizing_."

"Doesn't it? So I'm guessing today's a vending machine day. Eh?"

"Since you're such a genius, Mr. Gifaldi," Helga took out her wallet and held out three dollars in front of Sid's face. "Can you buy me a can of cream soda, a bag of sour-cream and onion chips, a chocolate bar, and some chocolate chip cookies?"

Sid took the money without a single smarmy comment, he simple stood up before turning to address the other female sitting at the table. "Any request from you Miss. Phoebe?"

"Actually yes. I want two bags of chips, doesn't matter what kind, three packs of cookies, and water." She handed Sid some money. "That should about cover it."

Sid looked at Phoebe for a moment or two before he left the tables to go to the long line in front of the vending machines, knowing that his status in the school and town would prove very advantageous today.

"I'm so glad you're having such a healthy lunch Pheebs." Helga said as Sid walked away.

Phoebe rolled her eyes. "What can I say, I'm watching my girlish figure... plus I didn't have breakfast and missed the freaking bus."

"Then how'd you get to school on time?"

Phoebe dug into her pockets and pulled out a keychain with the Ferrari insignia on it. "I decided that using my mom's car wouldn't be such a bad alternative… I'm pretty sure she won't notice that I did anyway, so it's a win, win situation for me."

"Nice, what color?"

"Strawberry red... I swear that she's obsessed with that color. When she had her non-mid-life crisis she almost dyed her hair that color."

Helga simply raised an eyebrow before she actually opened her mouth to say something. "I don't really know how to respond to that so I'm going to use the ever so famous option and say, _hmm_."

"Why do I even bother?"

Helga pouted and winked at Phoebe. "Because I'm so darn unbelievably lovable."

"Some how, I don't quite think that's the answer I'm looking for."

"Whatever. Do you realize what tomorrow is, Pheebsie?"

Phoebe rolled her eyes knowing exactly what tomorrow was, but decided to play dumb. "No. Enlighten me."

"It's our eleventh anniversary of being friends."

"I suppose that's supposed to make me happy, yet somehow, I can't help but feel very depressed that I can't find a replacement for you… especially after eleven years of torture. Whelp, there is always next year."

"Shut up and say something positive."

"You realize that's an oxymoron right? How exactly does one shut up and say something at the same time?"

"Y'know what, eff this, I'm trading you in for a better model and getting me a new best friend."

Phoebe raised an eyebrow. "For what? A Phoebe v2.0? That is definitely not as good as the original."

"No, of course it's not...but the Millennium Phoebe v3.0 is. I hear it even gives you the answers for a test three days before you take it."

"Why that is simply ridiculo–"

Phoebe stopped in mid sentence when she was bumped from behind when a person walked past her chair. Both Helga and Phoebe turned around to see Lila, Kamelia, Kaylia, Rhonda, and Nadine standing there.

Kamelia glared at Phoebe, who glared right back. The two females had never liked each other, especially after junior high. "You need to watch where you're going Heyerahld."

"The name is Heyerdahl and I wasn't the person to bump into someone else."

"Listen you snub nosed, short little bitc–"

Helga stood up from her chair and stood at her full height to look down at Kamelia. "Short little what? I dare you to finish that fucking sentence Alba."

Lila snorted. "And what will you do if she does?"

Phoebe pinched the bridge of her nose, looking at the underlying disaster that was just waiting to explode. "Helgs this isn't really necessary."

"No, no, Heyerdahl," Rhonda said, one out of the only two in _The Fabulous Five _knowing how to actually say Phoebe's last name right... after all they had been stuck in the same classes since preschool. "I would like to see what Pataki is going to do."

Phoebe looked at Helga's gleeful face, with her blue eyes already highlighted in what Phoebe had dubbed combat mode, and Phoebe immediately gave up, she knew Helga G. Pataki was not going to let this opportunity simple float away… so Phoebe G Heyerdahl did the only thing she could do in this type of situation.

She gave Helga her blessings.

"Helga go ahead, have a ball." With a deep sigh Phoebe settled in her seat, just waiting for the real show to begin. She could already see the other people in the cafeteria taking a highlighted interest in the happenings around the Pataki-Gifaldi-Heyerdahl table, it didn't take a quantum physicist to figure out why.

"You really wanna see, huh? Well maybe I shouldn't..." Helga paused for a moment.

Lila looked smug. "So you ain't gonna defend the–"

Helga's right fist landed dead on Lila's nose, sending the cheerleader reeling backwards into her friends. Helga smiled smugly as she saw the red head test out her now broken nose. "...And maybe I should... I've been waiting a long time to do that."

Lila screeched and ran at Helga with her hands stretched out in front of her. As Helga and Lila fought, Rhonda, Kamelia, Kaylia, and Nadine watched in horror, while Phoebe rested her head on her fist with a very subtle smirk on her face. It was just like they were back in junior high, there was no need for Phoebe to step in, after all the trouble Helga got herself into back in those days, there was one thing Helga learned from those days long past, and that was how to handle herself when it came to a fight. A crowd gathered around and made a circle around them, calling out, _"Cat fight!", "Beat her up, Pataki!", _or what seemed be the most popular with the crowd, _"Go Lila!"_

The onlookers were either shocked, upset, nonchalant, or amused. Shocked, because of the violence displayed by the perfect Lila Sawyer. Upset, because Lila Sawyer, one of the most popular girls in the school, was getting beat up by Helga Pataki, a nobody. Nonchalant, because it was well known that neither Helga or Lila liked it each other and it was only time before they actually got involved in a physical fight. Amused, because while Lila slapped and scratched at Helga, Helga was swinging at Lila with her left and right fists.

Sid fought through the crowd and dropped the _lunch_ he had just bought for Helga, Phoebe, and himself. He quickly grabbed Helga and pulled her away from Lila. Unfortunately, no one was there to grab Lila, which led to the red head smacking Helga across the cheek, leaving four gashed along the blonde's cheek. Helga touched her right cheek and once she saw blood on her fingers she tried to lunge for Lila, but Sid had too much of a hold on her.

Finally, Arnold, along with Gerald, Harold, and Wolfgang pushed through the crowd. Arnold pulled Lila to the opposite side of the circle and kept a hold on her arms as she tried to lunge for Helga. It was obvious to everyone in the crowd that Helga was victorious in the fight. Sure, she had scratches along her arms, neck, and face, but Lila had a bleeding nose, a busted lip, and then there was the fact that she would be sporting two black eyes very soon.

Helga smiled. "Sid, if you let me go and let me finish off what they started, I'll buy you lunch for the rest of the school year."

Sid hugged Helga around the waist and rested his head on her shoulder. "As tempting as that is, I can't. You'll get expelled and where would I find my entertainment?"

"What's going on here?" Principal McNielson shouted as he made his way through the crowd. Once he took a look at Helga and Lila, his cheeks turned tomato red in annoyance. "You two, in my office now! Gifaldi and Linshaw, escort them!"

**(Y/L)**

Helga played with her nails as Principal McNielson took his time to reprimand her and Lila. She actually didn't care, while Lila played the innocent and nervous card, nodding in agreement with whatever McNielson said, as if she were some type of marionette or dummy— although Helga was inclined to want to believe this assumption, Helga knew how devious the red head was, in other words, she was no dummy. Helga, on the other hand, had been in this type of situation one too many times in junior high to care. Back in junior high, she got into fights frequently and always forced to visit the vice-principal, who at the time was McNielson before he got promoted to the position of principal at Crinshaw High School.

The seating arrangement was Lila, Arnold, Sid, and then Helga. That way, if either female decided to attack the other, there would be at least two people there to stop them. Too bad Helga didn't care to attack; she already did her damage, and she was currently smirking at her lovely artwork. She especially enjoyed looking at the areas where two black eyes would form by morning time.

"And what is that smirk about Pataki! Liking how you're reliving junior high missy!" McNielson shouted with his cheeks flaring out as if it were a squirrel's cheeks full of chestnuts, a squirrel with very red cheeks of course.

"Now, now, now, McNielly, remember how close pals we were back then? I look back to those memories fondly with a smile."

"Well, I'm sure you won't be smiling about this–"

Mr. McNielson was cut off by the sound of George Michael singing, _I Want Your Sex._

It was Helga's phone ringing.

Helga held her palm. "Hold that thought McNielly," The blonde made no hesitation about picking up her phone. "Hey Ian. I'm about to be suspended because I got into a fight." _Pause_. "Yup, just like junior high! I know, can you believe it?" _Pause_. "No, I'm not joking…really!" _Another pause_. "About two minutes." _And yet another pause_. "Good." _Yea, and another pause_. "Alright, bye love." Helga hung up her phone and placed it back onto its clip before she smiled at the extremely furious principal. "As you were saying."

Steam was ready to pour out of McNielson's ear. "You will be suspended for two weeks Pataki starting tomorrow, while Miss. Sawyer, who was probably aggravated into this violent act by you, no doubt, since she is such a upstanding, perfect–"

"Is this a sentencing or an awards ceremony? Because right about now I'm getting highly confused about the way this meeting is going."

Arnold looked over at Helga in shock at her amusingly nonchalant, but rather idiotic actions, as his girlfriend smirked, and Sid stifled a laugh. Even McNielson paused for a moment. "As I was saying. Miss. Sawyer will only have to serve four days of In School Suspension, starting tomorrow."

Helga shot up from her seat and stretched. "It's been real and all, but I've got places to go, facts to learn, and the like," She walked to the closed door, opened it, and then paused. "Oh and thanks." She walked out of the room to leave behind one bewildered principal, Lila Sawyer, and Arnold Linshaw, plus one amused best friend.

**(Y/L)**

The period following lunch was European History, in which Arnold, Gerald, Harold, Sid, Rhonda, Phoebe, Kamelia, Kaylia, and Nadine all had class together. But most importantly, so did Helga and Lila. Everyone expected a round two of the fight. To everyone's shock, Helga had not shown up when the late bell rang. Five minutes passed and everyone's eyes stayed glued to the front door, just waiting for Helga Pataki to stride in. No one listened to Mr. Q's lesson. Ten minutes later and everyone's attention drifted. Lila's clique smiled, sans Lila, who was at a hospital at the time, were all of them telling people in the class that Helga and Phoebe, who was also conveniently missing, were both too afraid to show up to class.

About fifteen minutes into seventh period, a girl sitting by the window noticed something. The history class was situated on the second floor and was facing the student's parking lot of the school. The girl saw a motorcycle pull up into the parking lot and a girl leaning on the school building, pulled off her hat to reveal her pink hair. The girl immediately knew who the other girl was, after all, who else in the school had pink hair.

When she immediately announced her finding to the class, everyone's attention turned to the door before they realized the girl was pointing out the window. There was a mad and noisy rush to the window, as everyone went to see what exactly Helga Pataki was up to. And there she was, leaning on the school building with a cabbie hat in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other.

The guy got off his motorcycle and walked over to where Helga was standing before he took of his helmet and handed it to her. Some of the female's mouths dropped in the classroom as they stared at the tall brown-haired male.

"Who is that guy and why the hell is he talking to Pataki?" Kaylia mumbled to the rest of her friends.

Rhonda tried to read their lips, but failed. "I just wish I knew what they were talking about."

Helga threw the cigarette to the ground and stubbed it out with the heel of her sneakers.

Ian smiled. "Good girl. Those things are very bad for your health."

"_Riight_. This coming from a guy who smokes almost constantly at any given mood on any given day. Hey, I only smoke when I'm extremely pissed, emotional, or stressed."

Ian pouted. "Yea, well. That's different. You're too young and beautiful to die."

"Right since you're positively ancient at the age of eighteen."

"Shut up. Just be glad I've got nothing to do today and could pick you up. No wonder you left me that two second message on my voicemail. _'Call me back in five minutes, Ian. You'll know what to do when you talk to me_'. Did you at least beat up this girl?"

Helga smiled widely. "Two black eyes, a bleeding nose that is hopefully going to be crooked, and a busted lip."

Ian hugged Helga before he slipped an arm around her waist. "Good girl. Now let's go... Your chauffeur awaits."

"Hopefully not without me." A voice called from the right. Helga and Ian looked to see Phoebe standing there with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Of course not Miss. Heyerdahl, but unfortunately, I cannot provide a ride for you."

"No problem Dorian," Phoebe pulled out the keys to her mother's Ferrari and clicked a button. The driver's door of a strawberry red Ferrari flew upwards. "I've got my own."

Ian looked down at Helga. "I think I might want to catch a ride with her."

"Go ahead, your bike is in good hands."

"Never mind. Phoebe, we're heading to Sal's, hope you can keep up."

Phoebe snorted as she walked towards the car. "No, no. I hope _you _can keep up."

From the second floor of Crinshaw High School, the remainder of _The Fabulous Five_ looked on in anger as they watched Helga moved towards the stranger's bike and Phoebe walk over to a nice Ferrari. Finally, Kamelia, the leader in Lila's absence, opened the window and yelled down to Helga, "Where you going Pataki? Afraid?"

Helga stopped in mid-step and pivoted on her right foot. She smiled up at her bitter enemy. "Yes. I am afraid... very afraid." She said in a serious tone.

People looked at Helga in shock, while Kamelia smirked. "Really."

"Really. I am afraid... of what I might do to you. You see, if I ever got into a fight with you or any of your clique again, you'd be leaving school in an ambulance and I'd be leaving in handcuffs and a police car. And, although handcuffs are the 'in' accessory these days, I really don't want to spend the night in jail."

Ian cleared his throat. "_Again_."

Helga turned and glared at the tall brunette. "You, shut up."

Ian raised his hands up in defense. "Shutting up."

"Bye Alba, tell Lila that I hope she enjoys ISS while I get a mini vacation."

"Fuck you Pataki!"

Helga said nothing as she walked to Ian's bike. Her two raised middle fingers on her hands said it all, as she raised her hands into the air, not bothering to look back. Helga put on the dark blue helmet, as she and Ian got onto the bike. Phoebe was already in her car with the engine started, she was just waiting for Ian and Helga. Ian started the bike's engine and kicked up its stand before he sped out of the parking lot with Helga laughing as she held onto his waist, and Phoebe purposely skidding her tires loudly as the turned out the school's parking lot.

**(Y/L)**

I do not own Hey Arnold! I just realized a boo boo I made in the first chapter... Hilda is actually in 1st grade and I will be changing chapter one later on. Thank you Smoking Panda, Thea, Linda, Cayin-Moonchild, BellaMay76, Justin T. Melanson, XxXCocoPuffXxX, Naisha, and Sanalicious for he fantastic reviews.

PS:

Linda, thank you for the corrections. I will get to them as soon as I can. Believe it or not Chapter 5 is very much so connected to Chapter 6, but it's not going to be very obvious until maybe Chapter 8 or 9. And the Gerald, Phoebe thing will be explained. I try to be careful, but unfortunately, because I edit my own work I tend to overlook things by mistake.

Thea, believe it or not, smoking actually has a hidden role and is actually necessary.

Justin T. Melanson, you know, this whole tapping into my mind thing, is just not working out for me. While you have not hit the nail on the head perfectly, you're pretty close. Do my the favor and stop tapping into that 90 percent. If not, to stop yourself from accidently discovering what the end is and telling the audience, but to let me keep my sanity in check (even though it's already out of check).

Click the shiny review button, it likes to be clicked. C'mon it won't hurt... much... let's just say it will hurt you more than it will hurt me...

S.L. Cipher _(Who will gladly accept all criticisms, advice, reviews, praises, and flames with a large Cheshire Cat like smile just because Cheshire Cat like smiles are very fun)_

Published: _Non so..._

Edited: 7 22 05

Top of Form

Bottom of Form


	8. Karma

Everyone changes with time. A day, a week, a month, a year... they all count. So how much can a group of rag tag 4th graders from P.S. 118 change with junior high, high school, and a whole bunch of history between those seven years? A whole lot.

**Years Later**

_And That's Why They Call It Karma_

Sid looked up at the neon green sign saying, _Sal's_ and he knew he had arrived. He walked through the doors being flanked by two large and bulky guys, but neither paid any attention to him, they knew exactly who he was.

He was a friend of Helga and any friend of Helga's was welcomed to _Sal's_ anytime, as long as they had money, of course.

_Sal's _was a darkly lit hang out with misty air filled of smoke, that was usually inhabited by bikers, kids from Cornwell and Wayside, or anyone who wanted to get a bad reputation, in a good way. Up front there was a bar where the owner, Sal, sometimes forgot to check for ID, and to the right there were some pool tables along with dart boards scattered across the walls. Even though the place was barely lit, Sid could still make out Helga's pink head as she lined up her cue on top of a pool table.

Sid had immediately left after school, knowing exactly where Helga, Phoebe, and Ian would travel. He had heard of a few of Helga's legendary days of junior high through Phoebe, never really through Helga. The two tended to be well guarded about their days at J.P. Chauncillor Junior High School. He heard the names, like Ian and Tristan, he heard the events, like _The Gambling Nights_, and he heard of the place, _Sal's_.

_Sal's_, the place where Helga had spent most of her time when she had Out of School Suspension during junior high.

Helga watched as the white ball sped towards the multi-colored group of balls, before it hit them and they splattered across the green table top. Helga handed Phoebe the cue and the short girl used it to measure the distances of the colored balls to the white ball. After she was done, she took careful aim and shot the red ball into the left side pocket.

Phoebe smiled brightly. "This is the only thing that trigonometry and geometry are good for, pool."

Sid slid his black leather jacket off his shoulders and threw down into one of the empty chairs. "Shocking, no?"

Phoebe and Helga did not even bother to raise their heads from the pool table to acknowledge him, they knew it was Sid.

"So Helgs, is this what you're gonna do while you're out of school?"

Helga shook her head. "Nah, not really. I plan on haggling Patty into letting me work a few more hours of the book. Hang out with Hilda a little more. Visit some my Cornwell and Wayside friends. Go into the city. Basically enjoy my two weeks of freedom."

Ian smiled from his seat on an empty pool table near the one Helga and Phoebe were playing on. "And let me guess who's gonna be your chauffeur."

"Who?"

"Me."

"Got in one, _sugah_." Helga said with a wink at Ian.

"I rather get _sugah_, than be called _sugah_, _honey"_

"We'll see 'bout that latah, s_ugah_."

Sid gaped. "And what about me Helgs? I feel insulted... I mean after all of my attempts to get you. Ian just pops back into your life after two years and bam!"

Helga smiled as she leaned in closer to the pool table with the brown rod in her hand. "You know I've known Ian since 7th grade. Longer than I've really known you. Plus he rides a motorcycle... and I like riding motorcycles."

Sid plopped down next to the grinning Ian with his arms crossed. "Perv!"

Phoebe and Helga shared a look. "Takes one to know one." They said simultaneously with twin smirks dancing across their faces.

**(Y/L)**

Helga did just as she told Sid. She enjoyed her vacation and put a few extra dollars in her pockets. She visited some her friends from Cornwell and Wayside, all of whom were ecstatic to see Helga, of course. She even spent a little more time with her younger smart mouthed sister. All in all it had been a two good weeks. Phoebe and Sid came over after school to catch Helga up on the class lessons she missed whenever they could and sometimes Helga went back to school... but only for _Sparta _meetings. Principal McNielson had given her permission to go to the meetings that were held during school and the ones after school... after much begging from Mr. Simmons. It was a Friday in late October, just before she had to go back to school on Monday, when something unexpected happened.

**(Y/L)**

It was a crisp cool night on Grant Field, the home field of the Crinshaw Spartans. The air was filled with the customary loud boisterous cheers of the crowd as they watched _The Golden Ones_ play out on the "old gridiron".

"_Linshaw has the ball with ten seconds still on the clock. If the Spartans get this touch down, they will win the game. He backs up his looking for an opening. He's looking. Looks like both Gifaldi and Johanssen are tied up. Five more and... oh no! Linshaw has been sacked... sacked! And that is the end of the game! For the first time in possibly ten years, the Crinshaw Spartan's have lost with a final score of 38-33. The Livingstonian Lions have won."_

A hush fell over the larger Spartans crowd as only the Livingstonian players and fans celebrated. The cheerleaders on the sidelines looked back and forth at each other, not knowing what to do; they had never actually been faced with the Spartans team losing. The Spartans players cleared the field, quietly filing into their locker room, unlike the many times they ran into their territory with wild cheers and shouts. It was almost like they were holding a funeral service for the lost of their perfect and spotless record.

Arnold looked out into the crowd quietly as they silently stared back at him. He took of helmet and dropped the football from his hand before he joined the rest of his teammates. Lila ran up to him and tugged his arm, but he ignored her.

The locker room was as silent as it was outside, if not more. It was the type of silence that crept up behind you, before reaching out its long gnarled nails and consistently scratched at your mind. In other words, it was quite uncomfortable. The players shoved off their uniforms and washed up quickly. There were no loud boisterous hoots or jokes or even perverted comments. They all just wanted to get out of Grant Field, especially Arnold Linshaw, Hillwood's _Golden Boy_.

Arnold quickly pulled a white t-shirt on before he grabbed his blue jeans jacket and pulled it on. He slammed his locker and was tying his shoelaces of his boots, when he saw a shadow fall over his head. He looked up and saw Coach Grant. "You did your best kid, but the Lions had a good defensive line out there. We were lucky enough to catch up with them during the 3rd quarter."

"It must not have been good enough because we didn't win."

Grant smirked, allowing Arnold to see the marks and lines of old age on his coach. He wasn't as immortal as he wanted Crinshaw—or any other town with a football team— to believe. "Of course it wasn't, that's why we are having practice on Sunday beginning at five in the morning. You need to be there at four."

Arnold nodded his head. "Sharp."

Grant patted him on his back before he walked to the front of the locker room to inform the whole team about the Sunday Practice. There were some groans, but they were silenced by the glare of Coach Grant, the staff, and _The Golden Ones_. Wolfgang, Gerald, Arnold, and Harold did not like losing, not even the socially blind Sid could settle with a loss, and he was supposed to be the easy going one. They would not have another "L" marked on their record ever again if it was up to them, even if that meant a grueling Sunday Practice.

Gerald put a hand on Arnold's shoulder as he made his way to the back exit of the locker room. "You alright man?"

"Yea... I'm fine. See you at Lila's?"

Gerald smirked. "Definitely, that is," Gerald raised his voice a little louder. "If we get the chance to see each other." The locker room was filled with loud hoots from the players and it was almost a reminiscent of last Friday, or the one before that, or even the one last year. Gerald nudged Arnold in the side, but the blonde did not respond with his usual comment, he only gave Gerald small smile.

"Yea."

Arnold left through the doors and the locker room was silent once more.

**(Y/L)**

Arnold stood at Lila's side as she acted like a paper puppet, giving her father the exact answers he needed to hear as he left. Mr. Sawyer talked to Arnold a bit and the blonde quarterback gave him his puppeted responses, before Mr. Sawyer left, and his girlfriend dragged him to the basement. He could not even recall the conversation he had just had with Mr. Sawyer.

It was just the same as always.

The same loud music.

The same alcohol.

The same people making out everywhere.

The same situation with Wolfgang flirting with another blonde

The same couch with Gerald and Kamelia making out on it.

The same girl sitting on Sid's lap, still completely unaware that Sid was not interested.

The same people kissing his ass because he was the quarterback of the Spartans.

Even the same route, to the same room.

Arnold looked around, for once seeing what Sid saw. _Everything looks so fake... so unreal... So different… _

Lila smiled as she opened the door the same room and led Arnold in. After she closed the door, she pounced on him, sending him right onto the bed. With a smirk on her face, Lila kissed Arnold, but he could not return it with the same vigor she had, and she noticed.

"Something wrong Arnold?" She began again when Arnold remained quiet. "You know, you played really good out on the field. I mean..."

She droned on, but Arnold simply tuned her out._ She just does not seem to understand... but who could? Maybe Sid, but he is busy with practicing his flirting skills with the girl on the couch... so, who else? _

That's when a very familiar voice filled Arnold's ears and it wasn't Lila's. _Some for the better. Some for worse... _

Arnold stood up and Lila dropped onto the ground. "Arnold!" He said nothing, simply exited through the door and made his way through the crowd to the staircase. "Where are you going?"

He could see Sid give him a knowing smile as he ran up the staircase and ignored the stares of the crowd as he left the traditional after party, hours before schedule.

Leaving without a word said.

**(Y/L)**

Helga sat on her bed; she had just finished tucking her sister into bed after an hour of trying to get Hilda into bed. Now, she was counting her tips for the day, very happily. She was looking forward to taking Hilda, along with Phoebe, into the city for a Girl's Day Out tomorrow and with all the tips she had gotten this week, it was shaping out to be a very good trip. Maybe even a bonus tattoo added in, kind of trip.

The doorbell rang downstairs and she ignored it. Bob would just have to get it and get off his lazy ass to actually do something productive. The bell rang three more times before Bob called to her from his couch. "Olga, get the door!"

"It's Helga!" She shouted down to the human couch statue. "It's amazing how easily he forgets, remembers, and then remembers to forget my name again and again and again." Helga rolled her eyes as she climbed out bed to answer the door. She was wearing a Pink Panther t-shirt that sat between her hips and knees, but she did not care enough about the person at the door to go put on some pants, but she did slip on her Pink Panther house slippers. She jogged down the staircase and walked to the foyer.

She opened the door.

"We lost."

"And that's why they call it karma, buddy." She immediately closed the door on the person waiting outside.

The doorbell rang again and Bob roared. "I said, get the damn door. Are you going deaf Olga?"

"Are you going senile, Bob?" Helga rolled her eyes once more before she opened the door, again. Except this time she walked out onto the stoop and closed the door behind her.

She turned around to face Arnold Linshaw.

"What _is_your deal? So what you lost... Do you think I care or better yet do you know what time it is?"

Arnold looked down at the Rolex that Robert, the owner of a jewelry store in Upper Hillwood, had given him for free. "Twelve o' one in the morning."

"Good, now at least we know that your fancy watch works. Now, all we need to know is if your brain works!" Helga whispered fiercely at Arnold, not wanting to raise her voice loud enough to disturb Big Bob from his comfy couch state, to make him come out and inspect why the hell someone was talking so loud that he couldn't hear his TV.

Arnold ruffled his already messy hair as he raked his hand through it, a nervous habit he picked up during junior high. "Look, Helga, I just needed someone to talk to–"

"What are your friends for, dammit? You also have an effing girlfriend, you damn moron!"

Arnold groaned. "But they don't understand like–"

"I understand alright! You are a fucking neurotic idiot ringing down people's doors, who, may I remind mind you, are not on friendly terms with you, at twelve o' fucking clock in the morning!" Helga held the bridge of her nose for a moment. "You know what, I'm very cranky. So I'm going to go inside and you are going to go to your Glory Party. And as a bonus, I will not go around telling anyone about your misbehavior tonight, we wouldn't want your reputation ruined after all." Helga moved to open the door, but Arnold grabbed her wrist.

"Wait. Please." Helga, unfortunately, underneath her poised, cynical, sarcastic exterior, was a big softie... somewhere… really deep down on the inside… really, really deep. She could see that Arnold's request was sincere, so she turned around and simply stared at him.

"Hurry up, I'm cold." Without a word Arnold took of his jacket and put it over Helga's thin frame. "I don't need this." Helga said as began to shrug the jacket off of her but was stopped by Arnold's hands placed on her shoulders.

"Keep it on. As an apology for the other day."

He did not need to explain what '_the other day'_ meant; they both knew exactly what he was alluding to.

"Fine. You have two minutes to explain yourself Linshaw, or else I won't be held responsible for my actions."

"I don't know. I guess after we lose today–"

"_Hallelujah_!"

Arnold continued as if Helga's outburst had not fazed him. "– I saw how impermanent and fake everything around here is."

"Oh, so you got a glimpse at the real Crinshaw, congratulation," Helga patted Arnold on the back and handed him his jacket. "Now move on with your petty little life and pretend you never saw what you did. Too much more exposure to the real world may make your head implode. And who would want that... actually, there is a substantial amount of people who would, but that's beside the point. I am going inside and going to forget about this in the morning. This morning. You are going to do whatever the fuck you want to, as long as it does not involve me, my house, my stoop, or my fucking door bell. Good night."

"Gee."

"Gee, gee what?"

"Gee, I've missed someone actually cursing me out for something."

"Once again, you have had another dose of the real world. This is getting very dangerous. Maybe you should get your own sitcom on TV? But that's not my concern. Once again I will say, good night!"

"Don't you see Helga?"

Helga groaned in pain. "See what? A fucking necrotic on my doorstep with his head up in the clouds, wasting my air space? If that is what you mean by me _seeing_, then, yes!"

"Please, you're the only one who I can talk to, the only one who would understand. Everyone else seems too two-dimensional to talk to. Please, Helga, just for a half hour or so."

With a sigh Helga opened the door of house, leaving space enough for a person to walk by her. "Fine, just quietly sneak up the stairs and go to the open door all the way at the end the hallway, no talking 'til I close the door of the bedroom."

Arnold walked through the door before he whispered, "Thank you."

"Whatever."

Arnold crept up the staircase as Helga calmly shut the door and followed behind him.

As Helga walked by the TV illuminated family room, Bob asked, "What was that, Olga?"

"Helga." She corrected him almost absent mindedly.

"So what was it Holga?"

Helga sighed but did not bother to correct him. "Nothing or maybe something. Who knows? I'm going to bed... And the cable bill needs to paid in two days. Slip your portion underneath my door in the morning."

The only response Helga got was the gulping sound of beer going down Big Bob's throat and the volume of the TV being raised higher.

_One pest down, one more to go_, Helga thought as she slowly climbed the staircase, seeing the light of her room shining at the end of the hallway.

**(Y/L)**

Cliffy anyone? I do not own Hey Arnold! Or the Pink Panther or anything that you recognize. I made this chapter a little longer to make up for my absence and it's early so, um, yay? Thank you jaz7, Jaded Angel, BrendaC, WildAngel16, Xandiira, BellaMay76, Demile, Smoking Panda, Marissa, Ahhelga, The, XxXCocoPuffXxX, Princess Amanda, Sonia, TezukaZone, FantasyFanShan, mizcam, Linda, Anonymous, and Sanalicious for the absolutely fantastic and encouraging reviews.

PS:

Jaded Angel, you are absolutely making me blush... but please go on. ( - )

Brenda, yes, Helga is very over Arnold.

WildAngel16, Ian... well parts of his identity and relationship with Helga shall be revealed!

Ahhelga, cursing... no problem.

FantasyFanShan, your wish is my command.

Mizcam, you're the first to notice, or rather the first to mention that. I was sort of hoping it would be noticed. When I was giving Phoebe a middle name I looked at her intials and saw that she and Helga shared H and P but in reverse so that is why I gave her a 'G' middle name. Good eye.

Click the shiny review button, it likes to be clicked. I'm afraid it is suffering a severe withdrawal of button-pressing-review-ism. So, please save the you review buttons by pressing this one... you're doing world a favor.

S.L. Cipher(_Who will gladly accept all criticisms, advice, reviews, praises, and flames with a large Cheshire Cat like smile just because Cheshire Cat like smiles can piss people off and Cipher likes pissing people off_)

Published: _Je ne sais pas..._

Edited: 7 22 05


	9. So You're Here Because?

Everyone changes with time. A day, a week, a month, a year... they all count. So how much can a group of rag tag 4th graders from P.S. 118 change with junior high, high school, and a whole bunch of history between those seven years? A whole lot.

**Years Later**

_So You're Here Because...?_

An Interlude of Sorts

When Helga finally reached her room, she found Arnold sitting stiffly on the black covers of her bed, looking extremely out of place in her pink and black themed room.

Helga calmly walked into her room closing the door behind her before turning the lock. She walked into her closet and put on some of her long boy shorts before she walked across the room to her bed, knowing that Arnold's eyes were following her every move. She unceremoniously flopped down her bed, messing up her piles of already crushed and wrinkled bills. She rolled over on her queen sized bed before she sat up and looked straight into Arnold's light blue eyes.

"So... you've come here for a confession–" Arnold opened his mouth to disagree but Helga would not let him. "Oh, yes you did... So start confessing, that way your_ tortured soul _can be appeased and rest and I can get some beauty sleep and rest up for my day in the city." Helga dragged all of her money towards her and started to count her tips over again.

"Really where are you going, who are you going with?"

Helga stopped in mid count and glared at Arnold. "Look, I'm being very nice right now. I could just easily kick your ass out of my house without letting you do that_ sickeningly tortured soul _crap to me that you're about to give me, to make yourself feel better... I'm just trying to help your guilty conscious."

Arnold tilted his head slightly. "_Tortured soul crap... Guilty conscious...?_"

Helga rolled her eyes. "_Twenty_," Helga put down a stack of bills before picking up a bunch of dollars and putting in her lap. "One... Two... Three... Yes, _tortured soul blah blah blah... I feel so guilty blah blah blah_. I mean that's why you're here, right? After all I am one of the few people who doesn't kiss your ass and all that shit. _Ten_... And if I started to feel sorry for you I could tell everyone else to, then you wouldn't feel so guilty about everything. _Fifteen_... Plus you're doing this so that incident from gym class doesn't make you look like a complete jackass, right? I'm waiting." Helga put down a stack and began another one. "_One... Two... Three... _The faster you're down with this, the faster I get to go to sleep."

Arnold stayed silent and calmly blankly stared at Helga.

"Y'know I'm right... You just don't want to look like a... _Twelve_... Jackass, right?"

"No."

Helga paused from counting her money again. "No? So... You're here because of what then?"

Arnold groaned in frustration and mussed his blonde hair. "I'm here because, you, Helga G. Pataki, are the one who messed up my world in the first place."

"What! You've got to be fucking kidding me!"

Arnold crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head.

Helga threw down her money and kneeled on her bed so she look down at Arnold's face. "I can't believe this bullshit! What the hell are you talking about!"

Arnold pouted and shot an excusing glare in Helga's direction."Remember, you cursed me out."

"I wouldn't have cursed you out if you weren't acting like a _jackass_. Operative word, J-A-C-K-A-S-S in effing capital letters! You know what, get the fuck out of my house and never ever stand on my fucking stoop ever again you egotistical asshole!"

Arnold moved his body upwards so that he and Helga were now directly face to face. "No! I want to talk to you."

"Then act like you do, you fucking snob."

Arnold sat down studying the hands in his lap. "Well, you did curse me out."

"Then forgive me, Your Royal Jackass, for cursing out people who look down on others because they are being shitheads!"

"Look, Helga, Could you just talk to me... I don't know how I'll go back to school after seeing how fake everyone and everything surrounding me is."

Helga sighed, flopping backwards to lie on top of her money with her arms dangling off of her bed. "Look, I still think you and the other _'Golden Ones'_ are shitheaded, snobby, superficial, egotistical, jackasses with sticks stuck so far up your assholes' that no one would fucking dear excavating to get it out... well except for Sid he's non-snobby and non-egotistical, and not a jackass, but he's just a pervert— wait, where was I again– oh yeah... but,"

Arnold waited with baited breath to hear what Helga had to say. But after a few minutes of waiting he heard nothing. "But...?"

Helga sat up from her bed, almost like one of those zombies rising from the dead from those old horror movies. "But... because the lack of sleep and lack of coffee have finally taken effect on my brain and now I am slightly delusional and insane, therefore in perfect condition to talk to you. Don't fuck it by being a jackass... No, wait you are a natural jackass, so don't fuck it up by getting on my nerves. Oh, and I am only going talk to you for an hour and that's it."

Arnold's golden blonde eyebrows knotted confusion. "Umm, okay then. So, what do you want to talk about?"

Helga smiled and pulled out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes from underneath her pillow, before plopping a cigarette in her mouth and lighting it. "Vanilla and chocolate swirl pudding with triple chunk chocolate chip cookies."

Arnold looked at Helga, very bewildered, before he could actually muster up the strength to say '_okay_,' without falling into a fit of laughs.

**(Y/L)**

Arnold woke up with a start and looked around at his surroundings, almost surprised to see he was sleeping on a wooden floor. Which was unusually, because his room had a carpet floor. The next thing he noticed was the fact that his room now had pink and black painted walls... and the last time he checked his walls were a dark blue. When Arnold saw a blonde and pink haired female sleeping underneath a large black blanket, and Arnold finally realized that he wasn't in his room after all. He looked around and spotted a pink alarm clock reading, three o' four AM. He had just fallen asleep an hour ago.

Arnold shifted slightly to get up and instantly Helga was sitting up in the bed.

Arnold raised an eyebrow and Helga only shrugged. "Heightened sense of hearing." Arnold got up from the floor and Helga rolled out of bed with her lighter and pack of cigarette. Wordlessly Helga unlocked the door and left her room, Arnold followed behind her.

They quietly crept down to the kitchen where Helga opened the door to the back of the house. Helga lighted another cigarette and began to puff on it. As Arnold was about to leave he looked at Helga and the cigarette held in her hand. "Y'know cigarettes are bad for your health, right?"

Helga smirked and took an extra long drag from her cigarette. "Y'know," Helga said, mimicking Arnold's baritone voice. "Having an overly large ego is bad for you, right?"

Arnold simply stood there blinking, just for a moment. "Point taken, I'll be going now."

Helga leaned against the doorframe. "Okay then, be gone."

Arnold hung back for a moment, as if he was waiting for something. "Bye."

"Be gone man! Dammit I'd hate to be the girl that hooks up with you for a one night stand."

Arnold rolled his eyes skyward before he turned around and left the house. "Fine, goodbye then."

"Adios... And don't make this a regular occurrence or I will have to shoot you out of principle and fun!"

Arnold only lifted up one hand to wave at Helga as he walked out of her backyard.

**(Y/L)**

Nope, I don't own Hey Arnold! And I doubt I ever will. Oh well, you win some, you lose some. Alright, this was an interlude, the next chapter will be out tomorrow look for it! Thank you raine84, Amelia Badelia, Yuikey, trunksgirl85, Hun Guy, jaz7, Jaded Angel, BrendaC, Xandiira, Ahhelga, Thea, XxXCocoPuffXxX, BellaMay76, and Sanalicious for the absolutely fantastic and encouraging reviews. Almost a 100 reviews, this is absolutely crazy, hear I was just writing to get this story out of head, thinking no one would pay attention to it! As soon as I reach the 100 mark I am going to write a huge chapter... wiggles eyebrows y'know what that means... grins innocently, at as innocently as S.L.Cipher can.

PS:

Raine84, I'm basically letting the story write itself, I don't really know what's going to happen... well except for the five possible endings. But there is probably going to be a sequel so be prepared!

BellaMay76, Little "bad girl", eh? Wait til you read the next two chapter and you'll see how bad one Helga G. Pataki can get!

ShanniC, good questions. And to all of which I have answers to, believe it or not! But the will be woven into the stories. You question dealing with Helga and money will be answered in the next two chapters, stayed tuned.

Click the shiny review button, it likes to be clicked. I'm afraid it is suffering a severe withdrawal of button-pressing-review-ism. So, please save the you review buttons by pressing this one... you're doing world a favor.

S.L. Cipher _(Who is just too tired to think of anything witty, annoying, rude or anything in between to write, so just deal with it!)_


	10. Morning Times

Everyone changes with time. A day, a week, a month, a year... they all count. So how much can a group of rag tag 4th graders from P.S. 118 change with junior high, high school, and a whole bunch of history between those seven years? A whole lot.

**Years Later**

_Morning Times_

Wednesday morning, Helga walked into Crinshaw High School refreshed, energized, and happy with the extra amount of money in her piggy bank that she now had. This of course put a huge smile on her face and said smile only broadened when she gave her teachers wads of homework assignments and essays that were due during her vacation, all of whom where shocked and very disappointed that they couldn't torture Helga.

For Helga G. Pataki, life was good.

Periods one, two, three, four, and five rolled by easily without a hitch and Helga sat back and relaxed. She saw the glares from the '_Populars'_ and those who worshiped the '_Populars'_, but Helga paid no attention to any of them. Every once in a while she saw Arnold looking at her, searching for something.

For what, she didn't know... and it was a good thing she didn't care either.

Whenever their eyes met, Helga rolled her eyes and went back to doing what she had been doing before... even if it was zoning out.

_Sixth period_, Helga thought as she viciously bit into her homemade sandwich,_ Only three more periods 'til merciful freedom_.

Helga sighed happily.

" 'elgs?" Sid asked with his mouth full of his sub. A piece of lettuce fell from his mouth and Sid had the decency to look abashed... at least for a moment before he picked up the lettuce and plopped it into his mouth. " 'orry 'bout dat! You 'kay 'elgs?"

Phoebe rolled her eyes, but chose to say nothing and kept eating her french fries.

"Yea, I'm fine, but you've got a little mayo by your mouth."

Phoebe and Helga smiled as Sid tried to wipe the imaginary mayo off his face. "Good?"

Phoebe snickered. "Perfect." Under her breath she whispered to Helga, "You so owe me lunch in the city."

"Alright ladies... what are you two planning."

"Planning?" Helga asked as she raised a blonde eyebrow.

"Yea, for my birthday."

Phoebe slurped off the rest of her soda. "Birthday... _birthday_... What birthday?"

Sid laughed. "I know you guys are just acting. Now come off it. What are you two planning?"

Both Helga and Phoebe sent Sid puzzled looks.

"I can't believe this. You two FORGOT my birthday. You don't remember November 12th is my effing birthday! Y'know NINE days from now! I simply can't believe this. I mean how? Really I mean how! This is so fuc–" Sid stopped his tirade when he saw that the two females sitting at his table were having a hard time keeping straight faces. "You two are really fucked up."

Helga leaned over to Phoebe and whispered. "Now you owe me a lunch. I told you his inner drama queen would come out."

"What are you whispering over there! There is no need to tell Phoebe how damn sexy I look without clothes... she has first hand experience."

Helga leaned her head in the palm of her hand giving Sid a cool heavy lidded look. "_Really_?" She drawled.

"Really."

"I always knew you had a thing for her," Helga licked lips and winked at Sid. "You're damn sexy, y'know. When do I get my turn?"

"Tonight if you want."

"Trust me, I want. I want real bad."

"Around eight then," Sid paused for a moment and glared at Helga. "I know what you're trying to do! You're trying to distract me. Well, it won't work."

"Damn, there goes plan A, B, and C. What do we do Helga?"

"Why Plan D of course."

"Which is exactly what Helga?"

"Sit here like deers staring at the headlights of a car heading straight for them at forty miles per hour."

"Okay, sounds like a good plan to me."

Helga and Phoebe widened their eyes into large glassy ovals, looking straight ahead and gaped.

Sid snapped his fingers in front of their faces and they blinked. "What are you getting me for my birthday?"

"Be patient young one," Phoebe said putting on her _wise_ person voice. "It will all be revealed, all in good timing though."

"I wanna know now!"

"Nope. Life just doesn't go the way we want it to sometimes. Get used to it." Helga pushed her chair back and got out her chair, only to bump into...

... Lila Sawyer.

The cafeteria froze as people watched with baited breath, craving to watch a repeat of the incident two weeks ago. Unfortunately for them, neither female were in their "cat-fight" mode.

Helga raised her eyebrow and Lila sneered. After giving each other glares Lila shoved past Helga, and Helga walked calmly to the garbage pail to throw out her lunch, as if nothing had happened moments ago.

Phoebe picked at her nails with a smile. "She wolves, can't live with them and would rather live without them."

Helga flung herself into her seat and slouched in the red chair. "Don'cha know it."'

"So... while you two were in the city... by any chance did you two get any tattoos?"

The two females gave Sid mischievous twin smiles, but neither opened their mouth to give Sid an actual answer.

**(Y/L)**

Friday afternoon, the ninth period dismissal bell rang and student began filling out of Crinshaw, relieved to be going home. They were going far away from teachers, gossip, and the dreaded freshman bookbags, at least for two days of peace, quiet, and relaxation.

A cherry red Ducati Monster1000 raced around the corner of Grayson Avenue and raced into the parking lot of Crinshaw High School.

The driver spotted Sid and Phoebe talking by a tree very close to the school. Immediately, the driver parked the bike on the cement, in front of the pair.

Ian tugged his black helmet off his head and hung it off of his bike's handlebars before he walked over to the unsurprised Phoebe Heyerdahl and Sid Gifaldi.

"Hello." Sid and Phoebe said in unison.

"Hello."

"Nice entrance."

"Thanks Sid, it comes naturally. Where's Helga?"

Sid and Phoebe shared a look that fortunately Dorian '_Ian_' Karmicheals, missed.

"Why?" Phoebe asked shifting her weight from leg to leg.

Ian shrugged his shoulders carelessly. "_Ahhh_, no reason. Well, she asked for an extra job and I've got o–"

Kaylia bumped into Ian and all of her books feel to the ground. Ian stooped down and helped her pick up her scattered belongings, when he returned them to her, Ian gave her his famous half smile, half smirk that literary made every woman within a 10 foot radius weak in the knees and kept his pockets full of numbers—Helga proved this theory during the beginning of eighth grade.

Kaylia stood on the tip of her toes and kissed him on his cheek. "Thanks. You can help me anytime." Licking her lips slowly, she slickly slipped her hand into his denim pockets and dropped a paper with her name, number, and address on it.

Kaylia slunk off to where her friends were waiting by Gerald's Mitsubishi Spyder Eclipse with a grin on her face and Phoebe glaring at her back.

Ian raised a sooty wood colored eyebrow. "Is there some animosity I need to be worried about Phoebe?"

Phoebe stopped glaring at the cheerleaders and focused her attention on Ian. "Let's just say the Albas don't know when to keep their hands off of things that are not theirs."

Ian said nothing, but his widened eyes did.

The trio stayed silent until Ian spotted a pink haired female walking out of the doors of Crinshaw Highschool and he instantly moved to attack.

Helga walked slowly indifferent to the nice autumn day surrounding her. She adjusted her off the shoulder pink _Zposën _sweater as she walked towards where Phoebe had parked her mother's strawberry red Ferrari that she had been driving, once again. She was completely shocked when a pair of arms found their way around her waist.

"Hmmm." The person rumbled in Helga's ear from behind her and she was so confused. Her first guess as to who exactly the perpetrator was would of course be Sid, but there were two problems with this guess. One, Helga could tell the person behind her was taller than Sid. Two, Helga could see Sid waving at her from underneath the shade of a tree, right in front of the Ferrari.

Turning her head to the side then upwards and she caught a glimpse of a pair of dizzying hazel eyes of purple, green, brown, blue, and gray framed by thick sooty black eyelashes that girls throughout the Tri-State area was jealous of. The dizzying pair of eyes danced in amusement and a mouth described by as "_perfectly absolutely kissable_" curled into a small smirk.

"Hello Ian, _sugah_."

Ian rested his chin in her hair pink hair. "Hey Helga, _honey_. Your hair smell like strawberries, it smells good."

Helga wriggled out of his arms to turn around and face him. "I'm so glad you are appreciating my shampoo and conditioner and all, but what are you doing here?"

Ian smiled innocently, making his handsome features light up in a very boyish manner. "Would you believe me if I said that I was visiting for the hell of it?"

Helga frowned. "No, you never set a foot on Crinshaw ground unless you have an exact purpose, sugah."

"You're right," Ian gathered Helga into a hug so what he said next could be heard by her ears, and her ears only. "I was thinking the other night about how much money we used to pull in back in the old days, remember?"

Helga nodded her head hesitantly. "Yea, okay?"

"Good. And I was thinking that we should start gambling nights back up again. We've got nothing to lose and money to gain. Lots of it. How much do you still have from back when you were in eighth grade?"

"Around a cool thirty percent."

"Think about how much you could have, if we started again."

Helga smiled. "When do we start?"

"When is your house free?"

"Saturday, November 13th."

"Then Saturday, November 13th it is."

"Sixty-forty, right."

"Of course, I mean it is at your house, so you should get more money."

"See you Friday night for set up then?"

"Yup, see ya." Ian squeezed Helga's waist and kissed her on her nose before he let her go. Helga merely waved at him as he got on his bike and put on his helmet. Once Ian had his helmet on he gave a brief wave to Phoebe and Sid before he took off, exiting the parking lot as quickly as he entered heading in the general direction of _Sal's_.

**(Y/L)**

Nope, the Cipher does not own Hey Arnold! Sorry but get used to. Thank you Jaded Angel, Justin T. Melanson, Demile, ShanniC, Thea, XxXCocoPuffXxX, Starry-Eyez888, BellaMay76, Ahhelga, Amelia Badelia, and BrendaC for the fabulous reviews. Almost a 100 reviews, just one more push! Excuse my grammar and spelling mistakes, I'll fix them whenever I spot them. Tah!

PS:

Justin T. Melanson, hey where have ya been! Now I think I'm facing a withdrawal by not having you predict things! I guess I miss not being able to scream at my computer screen that you're a psychic.

Just click it... Clicking Is good for you... It makes you feel good... And it sure helps fluff my ego!

S.L. Cipher _(Who will gladly accept all criticisms, advice, reviews, praises, and flames with a large Cheshire Cat like smile just because Cheshire Cat like smiles can piss people off and Cipher loves pissing people off because it is exceptional fun... just deal with it)_

('·.¸('·.¸··¸.·'´)¸.·'´)  
«·´¨·_S.L.Cipher_ ·´¨·»  
(¸.·'´(¸.·'´ ¨ '·.¸)'·.¸.)


	11. Money, Drugs, and Rock

Everyone changes with time. A day, a week, a month, a year... they all count. So how much can a group of rag tag 4th graders from P.S. 118 change with junior high, high school, and a whole bunch of history between those seven years? A whole lot.

**Years Later**

_Money, Drugs, and Rock n' Roll_

It was Saturday night at the Pataki household and Helga Pataki was upstairs putting the finishing touches on her outfit. She could hear the light milling of people in the basement, all ready to start gambling, but they could not possibly start without her, the one who ran The Gambling Night. Not the gambling night, but _The _Gambling Night.

_Nope, they can't start without little ol' me. _

"_Next we were movin' on_," Helga smiled at the thought and rolled the tube of dark lipstick over her puckered lips. "_He was with me, yeah me, singin' I love rock n' roll, so put another dime in the jukebox, baby_." Helga unwrapped the towel that bounded her hair and shook her blonde locks loose, letting them tumble onto her shoulder. "_I love rock n' roll, so come an' take your time an' dance with me!_" With one final inspection in the mirror, Helga turned to exit her room, only to find Ian leaning against the doorframe with a smirk on his lips.

"How long have you been there?"

"Since, _I saw him dancin' there by the record machine, I knew he must a been about seventeen, the beat was goin' strong, playin' my favorite song,"_ Ian walked over to Helga and rested his arm around her waist and began walking her to the door. _"An' I could tell it wouldn't be long, till he was with me, yeah me, singin'_,"

Helga had always thought Ian had a great voice, but knew he never had enough desire to actual career in singing. Ian paused and looked at Helga. "Aren't you going to join in?"

Helga smiled and began to sing the hook in unison with Ian as they walked out the door. "_... so and take your time an' dance with me!_"

**(Y/L)**

Sid sat at a large table at _Patty's Diner _with Wolfgang, Kaylia, Nadine, Arnold, Lila, Gerald, Kamelia, Harold, and Rhonda. Today was the 13th, the day after his birthday, tomorrow was the 14th, Arnold's birthday. That was probably why they were sitting at the diner on the 13th, to celebrate their birthdays in one event... but Sid could feel that this event was missing two important people that he would have like to be here, but he knew where they were instead.

_The Gambling Night. _

It had been years since Helga had thrown her last one. If Sid recalled correctly, it was the summer before 10th grade when she held her last one. Saying that it had become boring and dull, nothing like it had been when she started it in 7th grade, at the tender age of thirteen. Sid had not begun to be friends with Helga and Phoebe until late in 9th grade, but he still knew of the infamous The Gambling Nights.

From what Phoebe told him, during 7th grade Helga had some money from her mother's will, but she couldn't touch it until she was eighteen, she had money from the part time job she had taken, and she also had money coming from the government, but it wasn't enough to cover any of the bills she had in the house, and this was when Big Bob's Beepers was steadily going downhill. Helga and Ian were thinking of ways to get rich quick, really quick, but they didn't know how... at least until they both caught hold of an idea, or rather, a spin-off idea of a mutual friend of theirs.

The first few nights of The Gambling Nights were very slow with a few of the teens from Wayside on alternating days, just to be safe. Helga brought Hilda to Mrs. Peterson, a widowed and kind lady on F Street, who was willing to watch her younger sister for a substantially small amount of money, thinking Helga was working at her part time job while she babysat. Big Bob was usually out of the house when The Gambling Nights started, but if he was home, Helga just told she was having a few friends over and locked the basement door. Phoebe, being an ace in math and marketing, helped Helga and Ian with money management and the set up of the basement.

Ian had some friends who supplied the alcohol and helped to be bouncers. They were all tall, burly, and downright scary looking…all of whom were why no ever told the police about The Gambling Nights, it was generally understood that if you told, the burly guards would find you and that was all that needed to said about those kinds of situations.

Ian's other forte, other than getting liquor that is, was playing blackjack, so he was in charge of all of the blackjack tables. Phoebe ran the bar and played some pool every once in a while, something she was an undoubtedly expert at, but then again, there was a few things Phoebe wasn't an expert at. Meanwhile, Helga, who could play blackjack, pool, and poker, stuck with the poker tables. Helga got the largest cut and handed four percent to Phoebe, who did not want any money from The Gambling Nights since she thought it was worth the fun. Ian took his cut and paid the hired help, as in his friends that acted as bouncers and the few girls who acted as waitresses.

Within two months The Gambling Nights became very popular. Extremely popular, it started off only one night a week and moved to four nights a week. Teens from Cornwell, Wayside, and few other towns near Crinshaw, but never really any from the actual town of Crinshaw, came in mass to gamble to have a good time, or get a bad reputation in a good way. Helga and Ian did not care why the came, as long as they came and spent off their money. It lasted for a good two years until Helga decided to retire from The Gambling Nights and that was the last Sid had ever heard about them.

Sid woke out of his daze when Kaylia poked him in the shoulder. He looked around and saw everyone at the table staring at him. "Where'd you go?" Rhonda asked with one raven eyebrow quirked upwards.

"I was just thinking–"

"Something that's a dangerous task for you." Wolfgang joked and everyone laughed, even Sid.

"Yea, but I was thinking about how we should go somewhere where all the action is... y'know with music, dancing, and some fun."

Gerald smiled at the idea. "Do you know of any place like that Sid?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Because, my man, you obviously must know a place, if you're suggesting it."

"As a matter of a fact, I do," Sid stood up and got up from the table. "C'mon, I know a place where you can have a really good time that not many people know about."

Everyone looked at Sid in confusion. "Where is it?" asked Arnold, a little unsure of what Sid was talking about.

"Right here in dear ol' Hillwood."

Lila looked shocked. "Here, in this town? How is possible... who runs it? They must be good at this or else the police would've busted them."

"It's a secret, now are you coming or not?" Sid did not wait for their reply instead he just walked out of the diner. He was not very surprised to see them following his suit, two minutes later, after an obviously heated debate.

Sid smiled, _'Crinshawnians are so predictable...'_

**(Y/L)**

Ten minutes later, Sid directed the group to O Street and told them to get out of their respective cars. They all grumbled and complained, all of them noticing that there were no other cars around or any sounds of music playing. Sid ignored the complaints and kept walking, knowing exactly where he was leading them.

"Sid, are you leading us a goose hunt?" Gerald finally asked.

Sid smirked. "Nope, I'm leading you here." He stopped in front of 1422 L Street.

"Wait a minute, isn't this Pataki's house?" Rhonda demanded with a scowl developing on her face."

"Yup."

"Look, Sid, I know you and her are friends, but why'd you say we're going to a place with music and all that stuff like you did at the diner."

"Because we are." Sid walked over to the back gate and entered the backyard. The other Golden Ones, their girlfriends, and there friends had no choice but to follow him, out of curiosity.

Especially one Arnold Linshaw.

When they entered the backyard they saw an intimidating tall, beefy guy, a type of guy you wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley at night, giving Sid a very dark glare. Everyone could not help but wonder what's going on.

"What's you business?" Growled the man.

"Gee," Sid sighed. "Bruno, you don't remember me?"

The guy named Bruno stared at Sid's face hard for a moment before a smile cracked onto his face. "Ah! Sid, Helga's friend who flirts with anything in a skirt! Now I remember. Blondie said she thought you might be coming, but wasn't quite sure if she'd be right. " Bruno walked over to Sid and clapped him on the back, jolting the smaller male forward. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. How's Mel?"

"Oh, she and I broke up years ago. Haven't seen you down at Sal's for a long time."

"That's because Helga stopped going."

"Oh yea." With one more friendly clap on Sid's back, Bruno moved aside so that Sid could walk down the steps that led to the basement. "Oh," Bruno pointed to everyone at the gate. "They with you?"

Sid smiled. "Yup!"

"Alright then, y'all can go in."

Cautiously, they all walked over to Sid, passing the burly man ever so slowly. Sid smiled and gave Bruno one final wave before he ran down the steps.

"Have a good time!" Bruno said as they walked down the staircase in small clumps.

Sid knocked on the door and a voice called through the door. "Who's there?"

"Tell Vega Blue, Blondie, and Jett that Sid's here."

The door immediately opened and yet another large man was greeting Sid. "Hey! Where ya been, kid?"

"Places Smith, places."

"Go ahead in." Smith said as he moved out of the doorway.

"Good seeing you."

"Good seeing you too."

Sid calmly walked through the doorway and everyone followed him. He walked straight through a room that looked like a laundry room until he got to another door, and instead of knocking like last time, he just opened the door and walked through to another room.

A room filled with people, mostly male teenagers, sitting at tables playing blackjack, pool, and poker. Music blasted from a stereo system in the back, but not in the same way it did at one of the Spartan Football Celebrations, the music was loud, but people could still talk in a normal voice and still hear each other. A bar stood to side of the room with males sitting down before a female wearing a white corset top with a black mini skirt and a black bow tie around her neck, as she served drinks.

They all knew that this was nothing like the Spartan Football Celebrations held at the cheerleaders' house. It had the same elements in a way, with the music and liquor, but it was different. Classier? Maybe, but they all knew it was more on the dangerous side, than the wild side.

"Hi Sid, you've brought guests I see." Ian said as he walked over to the group. "How are we doing tonight?"

Ian wore black leather pants, a pair of leather boots, and a white shirt— a simple outfit that kept females simply gawking at him.

"You could say that."

Ian smirked. "Oh and happy belated."

"How'd you know."

Ian shrugged his shoulders and smiled. "I have my sources... but since I'm sure you're not here to see me, I'll take you to my leaders." He turned around and began to walk deeper into the room and everyone had no choice but to follow him out curiosity, except Sid, he knew exactly where he was being led.

The pool table, where Phoebe Heyerdahl reigned.

Phoebe aimed the pool stick at the white ball taking her sweet time. "Now, gents, this game is all about angles and triangles. It's quite simple... if you aced geometry. Now, watch as I kick your asses thoroughly." Phoebe said with confidence and bravado, all packed into one a soft smile.

They watched as the last colored ball fell into the pocket before Phoebe swept up the money on the table and put it into a poach. "Thank you gentlemen for your valiant attempts at beating me— maybe next time you'll actually get somewhere."

The guys walked away grumbling curses underneath their breath. "I assure, I am not an illegitimate child and no, I'm not a female dog– but I wouldn't be to sure about your friend!" Phoebe waved to the disgruntled pair cheerfully as if she had not heard the curses they were saying about her underneath their breath. Once the two guys were out of hearing range Phoebe smirked and began to polish the tip of her cue. "That was too easy."

"Exactly Vega, that's why you shouldn't pray on the innocent."

Phoebe turned around smirking. "Aww, but Jett, where exactly would the fun be in that?"

Ian sighed, 'heavy hearted'. "What am I to _do _with you and Blondie?"

Phoebe rolled her eyes. "Okay, I'm just going to ignore that sexual innuendo that's floating around in there and pretend like I heard nothing while you bring that to Helga and you two can play that one out some time later."

Ian quirked an eyebrow. "Did I just hear a sexual inn–"

"Yes, Jett, but if I may ask why are you bothering me? You usually don't come around here while I'm busy playing my victi– I mean opponents."

"You are the only freak of nature I know that actually passed Geometry with flying colors."

"And that's why I can kick your ass, and Helga's ass, and Sid's ass in pool quite well...mind you I can even do it with one hand tied behind my back... _hmm_... one of these days I might even try it with two tied behind my back."

Sid took this opportunity to finally let his presence be known to Phoebe. "I'm pretty sure that wouldn't work out well for you Vega."

Phoebe smiled. "Of course it would Siddy. Don't be jealous just because I'm that goo-" Phoebe paused in mid sentence once she caught a glimpse of Sid's guests gawking at her. "Well that was completely unexpected and definitely not calculated into the plan."

The gawking unnerved Phoebe in a way, but in another way it was fun– sometimes Helga rubbed off on her too much. Inside of school and outside of The Gambling Night, Phoebe was known to wear attire that leaned more to the conservative side.

However, at a Gambling Night, all of that was tossed to the wind. Tonight Phoebe was wearing a blue corset top with a black leather skirt and black leather boots. Her inky black hair was slightly mussed instead of the neat shag haircut it was usually in, but what probably shocked them all the most was the fact that on her left arm there was a tattoo of a large butterfly, taunting them to ask something about it.

Phoebe tried not to pay attention to the gaping group, but it was hard with that many pairs of eyes just directed at you and you alone– especially the gaze of a pair of dark chocolate eyes– a pair of eyes owned by someone you thought you knew fairly well.

_Well, that goes to show you that you don't always know people all that well, _Phoebe said to her inner self. _But, I guess that's a good thing, 'cause if I did know that well, I would begin to think Helga was right about using too much of my brain... that would not be too good, sorta like that movie where that guy's head exploded ... definitely not good. _

"I'm going to get Blondie." Phoebe rushed off as fast as she could to a closed room door labeled 'High Roller Poker' and within a few moments she re-emerged with Helga.

Helga came out in a pair of tight black leather pants that had more zippers and holes than one could ever think could fit on a pair of pants without the owner not being completely bare of clothes. Her top was a champagne halter that plunged downwards dangerously and she too teased people with her own tattoo on her left arm– a picture of a heart with a sword throw it with wings sprouting from the sides of the heart. An asymmetrical silver belt incrusted in zirconias hung off of her hips spelling out the word '_Blondie'_. Her blonde hair fell to her shoulders alternating between spirals of curls or the smooth bumps of waves.

"Hola all," Helga said once she approached the group of people she could not despise. "I was expecting Sid to come, only alone. If I had known that he was having guests I would have prepared. Anyhow, as a gracious hostess," Rhonda and Lila snorted but Helga continued on, ignoring them. "I am always prepared. Now I welcome you to The Gambling Nights– just as completely secretive as it is illegal. Which means you should shut your mouths about it– If you do tell the police A) you might get arrested just like the rest of us B)We'd all deny what you said C) A very disgruntled mob of people would hunt you down D) I'd hire someone to hunt you down or E) All of the above." Helga's dark crimson lips turned upward in a sickening saccharine smile.

"Do enjoy." With all that said, Helga and Phoebe left to talk, or rather, 'convince' people it was perfectly okay to gamble away their new pay check by gambling.

Ian took them to a table set up in a remote corner and flirted with Kaylia before he left to and work at a poker table. And then the table was quiet... very quiet...

Too quiet...

Too very quiet...

At least it was until Rhonda decided to open her mouth and voice what had been on everyone else's mind. "How long has this been going on?"

"It started during 7th grade, ended in 9th and began again tonight– welcome to the grand re-opening." Sid smirked; glad Phoebe's sarcastic voice was finally rubbing off on him.

Then there was quiet once more– after all, who knew that Helga G. Pataki and Phoebe actually could run a complete secret organization and not a single one of them had heard about it.

The sound of laughter floated over to their ears and people looked on as Helga talked to guests and lead them to the bar. Meanwhile, Phoebe served people at the bar, faking a laugh as some obviously drunk guy told her a corny joke.

The females started to talk about the pair while the guys continued to let their eyes sneak a peak at the pair... and Sid noticed, that it was mostly Arnold and Gerald who did the peaking.

_Shocker, shocker, _Sid thought dryly, _Why does everything like a good idea in your head and blows up completely when you actually execute it?_

Gambling night continued on for about a half an hour before Helga and Phoebe walked over to Sid's table. Helga took a seat in Sid's lap without any thought while Phoebe pulled up a chair next to him.

"So, how's our favorite birthday boy?" Helga said, batting her eyelashes innocently– or as innocently as Helga G. Pataki could bat her eyelashes.

"Upset."

Phoebe rolled her eyes. "And why is that, Siddy?"

"Because of that god awful nickname–"

Helga turned to Phoebe. "Why is it that he gets to give us god awful names and when we give him one he complains?"

"It's the Y chromosome." Phoebe said very gravely without a hint of a smile in her face– but one floating in her dark blue eyes.

Helga nodded her head vigorously. "Definitely the Y."

Sid coughed lightly and received both of Helga's and Phoebe's attention. "I was not done listing your grievances!"

Helga and Phoebe shared a look before they both grinned mischievously. "No worries Sid, _sugah_, the Vega Girl and I have presents." Helga cast a gaze at Sid's party. "We were not accounting on extra guest, but you'll get them anyway."

Sid smiled. "I get two presents, should I feel honored ladies?"

Phoebe shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe. Maybe not. Probably not," Phoebe paused for a moment after hearing something in the background. "That's our cue Blondie. Let's go."

Helga jumped up from Sid's lap while Phoebe got up from her chair and the two walked away from the group and disappeared into the crowd.

Moments later, Helga was standing on top of the bar with a microphone in one hand and vodka in the other. The music was turned down and the crowd came to a hush as they stared at the blonde. "Good evening gents and ladies," Helga said using a voice that could only be described a absolutely hypnotically intoxicating– it was the kind of voice a person would use to seduce someone, and Helga was using it to seduce her audience. "I sure hope you are having a good time tonight."

There were loud shouts of agreement from the crowd.

"Good. Now, tonight, I am up because I am going be giving my dearest friend, Sid," At this point she winked at Sid. "A very special birthday present, something Blue and I know he has always wanted and needs." She raised the bottle of vodka in the air as if she were giving a toast. "Drink up because the next round is on Sid," She turned around to wink at Phoebe, who stood behind the bar smiling brightly. "Vega Girl, I dare say it's time to start the music."

"And I dare say you're right Blondie." Phoebe signaled a guy by the stereos and once again, the basement was filled with loud music, but this time it was EMF and their song Unbelievable.

Helga started to dramatically sway her hips on the stage, walking up and down the bar, which was now serving as a stage, before she started to whine her body downwards all the while keeping this very seductive grin on her face.

The shoots and cat calls got louder, and only seemed to escalate when Helga grabbed one the poles that ran from the bar to the ceiling. With a smile, Helga maneuvered herself onto the bar and with a show skill she let her body twist around and wrapped her legs around the pole. Then, to the shock of many, she bended backwards like a rubber band only using her legs to hold her herself on the pole.

Helga back flipped off the pole and stood up with a wink to the audience. Twisting her hips to the beat, she walked across the bar, and then kicked her long leg up, sliding across the across the bar, right in front of one unsuspecting guy.

One very unsuspecting, very pleased, guy.

She lifted her index finger and used it traced the guy's lips swiftly before tracing it down his throat, then stopping at right at his chest. She slowly leaned forward and softly whispered something in his ear, her lips curving in a smile as she pulled away and lightly pushed the guy's shoulders.

Helga jumped off the stage and with a bottle of vodka in her hand, swaying her hips to the beat. The crowd parting for her as sauntered over to where Sid sat, before filling the hole up behind her. When she finally reached her destination, she smirked at her target, and the target smirked back. Without a warning she sat in his lap, with her legs resting on his waist. She slowly leaned forward letting her teeth graze his ear. "Enjoying you present yet?"

Sid's smirk widened. "Do you even need to ask, _Blondie_?"

"Good, cause it ain't ever gonna happen again."

"Not even when I turn 21?"

"I'll have to think about that."

Helga stood up, but did not move to walk away from Sid, instead, she started slowly twist her hips and dance to the music. She whined her body down until she was in Sid's lap once again. She opened the bottle of vodka and displayed to the crowd with a smile worthy of game show hostess.

She turned and looked at Sid as she placed the bottle's opening on her mouth, seeing the very confused look on Sid's face. Sid knew Helga did not drink, in fact he knew how much she hated people drinking around her. She took a small sip and placed her hands on Sid's face before tilting it towards hers and in a moment there lips touched, and Sid was being kissed by Helga.

To outsiders the kiss looked very real, very passionate, and heading in the correct way of doing the vertical lambada, but to those who knew Sid and Helga well, could see it was nothing but cardboard, just two people pressing their lips against one another's. With one final smirk Helga ended the _kiss_ and stood up.

Once the music stopped playing, Helga walked away with a wink directed at Sid, and disappeared in the crowd before she resurfaced on top of the bar. "Okay, now, I know you all enjoyed the show, but now it's time for everyone to get back to real party, and gamble away all your money."

The crowd laughed thinking it was a joke, too bad Helga was serious.

The music started once more and people went back to gambling tables and began talking to one another, almost as if Helga had not put on a performance moments before. Helga jumped off the stage and Phoebe followed her example, bringing a box wrapped up in present paper with her.

Sid looked around at the speechless people sitting at his table. He was tempted to close their jaws for them, but he thought it would better to let them do that themselves, plus it was fun to look at their reactions.

A few people stopped Helga and Phoebe walked through the crowd complementing Helga on her wonderful performance and asking Phoebe for a rematch in pool. The two responded properly to whatever questions they were asked, but did not really pay attention to what they said.

It took them a total of ten minutes to walk from the bar over to Sid's table, and by the time they got there, they both were highly annoyed.

"Note to self, get bodyguards for Blondie and I." Phoebe said as she plopped down into a empty chair and thrust the present into Sid's arms.

Helga rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. "Eff that we need a whole squad, dammit. Do those people realize that they asked us the same effing question, in every possible variant?" She pulled over a chair and conveniently placed it in between Sid' and Phoebe's chair, before she ungracefully plopped herself into her chair.

"Probably not. But, we are not here to question the intelligent, or the unintelligence, of our esteemed guest, we are here to watch Sid open his present," Phoebe turned and glared at Sid. "Now open it, there is someone waiting for me to kick their ass in pool."

"Well, well, well, aren't we just a bowl of sunshine and peaches?"

"I agree with Vega, open the present, I have to start kicking people out. I'm getting very bored and very tired."

"Which mind you is not the best attitude for Blondie, she gets really lethal Sid. Really lethal."

"Shuddup!"

Sid arched one dark eyebrow at the two glowering females. "You know what… I'm not even going to ask. I am just going to open my present."

And open his present, he did.

Sid was interestingly shocked to the point of confusion, to find a pair of black leather pants and a brown leather jacket underneath the red paper tissue. "I can understand the brown leather jacket, but a pair of black leather pants?"

"Yup, you already have the jacket, so I figured you needed the pants to finish the ensemble." Helga said with a smirk. "And finish it, it will, look at Ian. Leather pants, leather jacket, and loads of females ready to jump his bones."

Sid smiled and was about to hug Helga when he realized something. "Wait a minute, Helga, since you got me the pants and jacket, does that mean that Phoebe was the one..." Sid trailed off.

Phoebe smirked at her own genius. "To plan that whole show performed by Helga?"

Sid nodded mutely.

Phoebe's smirk grew at an outrageous proportion. "Yup. I mean what else would one horny Sid Gifaldi want for his birthday than one of the females who he proclaims he wants to vertically lambada with to give him a lap dance?"

"Then how come you didn't give me the present yourself?"

"I'm wearing a skirt."

Sid smiled. "But aren't you supposed to be the prude and isn't Helga supposed to be the wild child?"

"Why do I have to be the wild child? Has it ever occurred to anyone, that I am not the one who convinces her to do every little 'bad' thing she does? Hel_lo_! She was the one who introduce me to the world of cigarettes, not the other way around! And let's not forget who convinced who to get a tattoo on their in–"

Phoebe covered Helga's mouth. "You heard nothing that Pataki just said. She is delusional."

Helga bit Phoebe's hand and the Asian girl swiftly took her hand off of Helga's mouth, but not before sending her a very potent glare, of course. "Oh, please! Don't even get me started! I am so not the wild child, I'm just the less than obedient wild child and she is not the prude! Why can't anyone get this through their head?"

Phoebe smiled. "Because it sounds better this way."

"I loathe you."

"I love you too."

**(Y/L)**

The Cipher still does not own Hey Arnold! And I have a feeling I never will. Oh well. Trust me when I say, I know what you all must be thinking, where has Cipher been for the last 2 months? I won't make any excuses, so I'll tell you the truth, I was, taking tests, virtually failing my two worst subjects because I have teachers that can't teach, being lazy, and being tired (because I have to wake up at 5:30 each morning to take my bus at 6:40). Hey, at least I'm back with that long chapter I promised. I know it doesn't have the same umph as usually, but I think that's what happens when Cipher disappears for a while. No worries the next chapter will be better!

Thank you all for the reviews! I know I usually thank every one by listing your names, but I'll hope you'll pardon this moment of laziness.

PS:

BellaMay76, thank you for being my 100th reviewer! Not only were you my 100th viewer , but my 1st viewer, and there is not one single chapter without a review from you. Thanks!

Click the button, it has been having withdrawal clicking problems for the last few months. Just put it out of its misery and clock the darn review button

S.L. Cipher _(Who will gladly accept all criticisms, advice, reviews, praises, and flames with a large Cheshire Cat like smile just because Cheshire Cat like smiles can piss people off and Cipher loves pissing people off because it is exceptional fun... Especially when they try and attack you. That's why it is so important to always have a mace on hand.)_


	12. The Longer the Days Are

Everyone changes with time. A day, a week, a month, a year... they all count. So how much can a group of rag tag 4th graders from P.S. 118 change with junior high, high school, and a whole bunch of history between those seven years? A whole lot.

**Years Later**

_The Longer the Days Are_

"I can't believe you're leaving Ian!" Helga said as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Ian smiled for Helga before he engulfed the now newly died back to pink haired teen. "I'll be back before you know it! You won't even miss me!"

Helga rolled her eyes. "Right, since you won't be able to communicate to any person in the United States, for how long again?"

Ian mumbled an answer underneath his breath.

Helga cupped a hand over her ear. "Oh, please do repeat, I think I'm going a little deaf."

Ian playfully shoved Helga in her shoulders. "You know very well I'll be gone for six months."

Helga wrapped her arms around Ian's neck and rested her head onto his shoulders. "I'll miss you, you know."

"I'll miss you too, pink haired brat. I'll send you post card whenever I can."

Helga smiled in Ian's neck. "You had better. And while you are abroad to all regions unknown on every continent but North America and Antarctica," Helga paused for a second and raised a pink eyebrow. "You are not going to Antarctica, right?"

"No, sweety, I'm not going to Antarctica."

"Good, now as I was saying, while you gallivanting abroad to study whatever you geeks into nature study, I expect you to pick me up some good souvenirs for me and Hilly."

"As if I wouldn't." Ian hugged Helga tight once more before he let go. "Now you need to get home right now, it's a school night. I'll drive you back to your house."

Helga snorted. "Yea, whatever. Can you grab Hilda for me and do us both a favor, and don't wake her up."

"Sure. Just grab my keys from the kitchen for me."

Ian disappeared into the family room off his apartment while Helga picked up the keys of a C-Class Mercedes Benz from the key hook next to the door. Within moments Ian reappeared, but now he had on shoes and was holding one blonde girl in his arms.

"It's amazing how you manage to afford such expensive toys."

"Not my fault, my parents come from a very old and wealthy family. They love sending me gifts so that they can try to convert me to their side."

"And it never works, huh?"

A smile reached Ian's eyes, even though one did not reach his face. "Nope, but I do keep the toys though." Ian paused for a moment and Helga bumped into his back when he stopped short. "Are you prepared to face a world without me?"

"Of course I am."

"And remember–"

Helga rolled her eyes and smiled. "Don't participate in any business with anyone because you're not here! I know, I know, you're such a worry wart some times."

Ian used his free arm to wrap it around Helga's waist. "Sometimes, someone has to look out for you Helga. You are not invincible, no matter how much you convince yourself you are."

Helga surprised Ian by impulsively giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "Trust when I say I know."

**(Y/L)**

BEEP!

BEEP!

BEEP!

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!

"Damn."

Helga shot one hand from underneath her Pink Panther covers and let her fingers search for the third button from her bed before she slammed it down.

_This is all a long run routine_, Helga thought, _a routine I know very well, almost too well._

It was too bad now the routine didn't have an Ian to fall back on, considering he was halfway around the world being the nature geek he was.

_Well, at least I have his motorcycle in my basement, ready to be used without a moments notice._

Helga smiled

Helga pushed the covers off of her body, but did not move to get out of bed. She quickly glanced at the clock, if she didn't wake Hilda up now then she would be late to school, and as much as Mr. Simmons liked her, she doubted he would excuse her tardiness for the umpteenth time. Helga kicked her legs on to the ground and made her way out into the hallway.

When she reached her sister's room she knocked on the door before poking her head into the purple theme room. "Hilda, it's time to wake up sleepy head."

As an answer a pillow was thrown in Helga's direction.

"And this is exactly why I am going to drink off all of the hot chocolate this morning."

A blue orb opened and focused on Helga. "H-hot chocolate?"

"Yup, you see I am so traumatized by that pillow that was thrown my way that I will have to make myself two very large cups of hot chocolate for myself and myself alone."

"With whipped cream?"

"Yup and some amaretto cream mixed in."

"Can I get some?"

"Hmmm, if you can get ready with fifteen minutes, then I guess that would be alright. Any later and I will be drinking all that hot chocolate by myself... not like I am complaining or anything. See ya." Helga closed the door before she leaned against it, smirking as she heard her sister rolling out of bed and starting to get all of her things together.

Helga pushed off the door and headed for the kitchen next, after all she had to uphold her end of the deal.

When she entered the kitchen she was greeted with an unpleasant surprise.

No, the room was still the same with it worn and discolored cream and light yellow wallpaper that was once colored pure white and vibrant yellow. The island still had a large burn from a cooking incident when Hilda and Helga had been experimenting with a recipe, and the kitchen table in the nook was still the same wobbly wooden circular table that had Helga's old algebra book underneath one of its legs to keep it balanced.

No, the surprised was a tall hair woman standing over the stove with her raven hair tied up in a messy bun.

"Damn. Why are you here again?"

The woman did not turn around to need to know who had just talked to her. "Good morning to you too Helga."

Sighing Helga went to the cupboards to get out the material she needed for the recipe for homemade hot chocolate her mother had taught her to make. "I'm afraid this morning can't be good if you're here."

The woman laughed and turned around to fix her purple gaze on Helga. "You are such a _darling _child. I can see exactly why Bobbie-cakes talks so little about you."

"If you are trying to bitchy I would suggest you get some better lines, Lexie."

Lexie laughed, holding one hand over her chest and lightly fanning herself with the other, in a way that a southern debutante would. A slutty, hookerish, bitchy southern debutante that is.

Lexie Jones was thirty two, worked at a real sleazy bar in Wayside, was once a model as a teenager and would have been famous – something she would never let anyone forget– if she had not got involved with heavy drug usage (she claimed that she quit, but Helga once caught Lexie acting quite high once), drove a Lexus, had a double d cup that she loved to flaunt in skimpy clothes that barely covered her body, was an amazon at the height of 5'11'', thought she was the queen of the world, had an attitude problem that Helga was just itching to correct, and, at least in Helga's mind, was a hooker on the weekends.

Lexie and Bob had been seeing each other for about three years, and Helga could not stand the woman, in fact the feelings of dislike bordering hate and annoyance was still there from the very first day they had met one bright and early morning in the very exact kitchen three years ago.

Helga was sure those feelings were returned equally.

_Unfortunately _Helga did not give a damn or two... but she did care that the woman was always swiping her cigarettes and her Pink Panther zippo lighter.

Helga's blue eyes zeroed in on the cigarette dangling from the neon green painted fingernails of Lexie Jones. Helga looked on the kitchen counter and saw a pack of _Lina Grette's Cigarettes _on the counter, the spare pack that she always kept in the kitchen draw with the knives and a wad of money hidden in box that was supposed to hold birthday candles.

"Look Jones, I am sure enough that you make enough money to buy your own god damn fucking pack of cigarettes." Helga filled up a pot of water and turned on the stove.

Lexie wagged one finger in Helga's direction. "Tut, tut, tut, young lady, didn't your _mother _teach you to not use such foul language." Lexie smirked at Helga, knowing that she had hit a nerve when she saw the blonde visible freeze. "What did I _say _something wrong?"

"Go fuck yourself."

"Such foul language, directed at your elders."

"Fuck that, you are about the right age to be my older sister, so don't try pulling that fucking card with me."

Lexie walked over to Helga and stood toe to toe to the pink and blonde haired girl, looking down at her. "And if I do?"

Helga smirked and stood up straight, maximizing every inch of her 5' 9 ½" height. "You, and your highly inflated ego, and your highly fake breast implants of yours won't like the results."

With that said Helga went back to making hot chocolate.

(YL)

"What a way to wake up." Phoebe said as she munched on her ham and cheese sandwich.

"You're telling the wrong the person."

Helga told Phoebe of the morning's mishap with Lexie, and Phoebe listened, as she always did whenever Helga gripped over the older woman.

Phoebe patted Helga on the head, as if she were some type of pet needing comfort. "Oh, my poor dear. At least you got her to back off with the threat to her life and her valued boob job."

Just as Helga opened mouth to say something sarcastically witty, after all that's about all that came out of Helga's mouth along with rude comments, Sid bounded over to the table and kissed Helga flush on the mouth before he kissed Phoebe.

Both females sat very still as Sid plopped into his chair and ceremoniously began to devour his food. When they saw that he was blithely ignoring their stares they began to talk.

"Who, or rather, what is that? And why is it at out table, Pink Punster?"

"Blue Brat, I dear say I am scared to find out." Helga elbowed Phoebe in the stomach. "You try and make contact first, after all you are the brain in this relationship and this is definitely your field."

"My field?"

"Yea, making contact with strange forms from other worlds, like those guys in the chess club."

Phoebe swatted the back of Helga's head. "That was very mean of you."

Helga rubbed the sore spot on the back of her head that was there as a _present _from her best friend, whom she reconsidering to denominate from that position. "Have I ever actually been nice?"

"Good question." Phoebe tapped her chin thoughtfully before scooping some fries into her mouth. "And the answer is no."

Helga smiled proudly as she waved to an imaginary crowd. "Thank you, thank you. You all are so wonderful." She caught an imaginary bouquet of flowers and began to _cry. "_You like me… you really, really like me!"

Phoebe paused in mid bite. "What _are _you doing?"

"Accepting my crown as the High Queen of Mean and Bitchiness."

Phoebe stared at Helga for a moment before she went back to her food. "Aw. Go on then, I mean who am I to keep the rightful heir from her crown?"

"That is exactly right, you plebeian."

Phoebe veraciously bit into her sandwich. "Ouch, ouch, you wound." She said in very stoic and monotone voice.

The Too-Happy-To-Be-Sid looked at his friends, highly annoyed at their inattentiveness to him. "Aren't you going to ask why I am so happy?"

Phoebe and Helga shared 'The _Look'_, a look that was usually used whenever they both tapped into the remaining ninety percent of their brains and were able to contact each other using their telepathy, before they answered, "No." at the same time.

Sid pouted prettily as he whined. "Not even a little."

Helga raised one of her eyebrows. "You know, if you were a girl you would be the prettiest one?"

Sid smiled and leaned in close to kiss Helga on the mouth. "But I am the prettiest one of them all."

Phoebe moved in close and rested the back of her hand on Sid's forehead.

"What are you doing?"

"Making sure you are not suffering some delirium due to some fever. Cause if you are, you might drop dead on us, and since I am sure you don't have a will yet, I just want to guarantee that I am getting your stereo system when you kick the proverbial bucket."

"Wha?"

"In other words, I value stereo system more than I value your life. Hey, at least you made second place on the list." Phoebe said with a wicked smile full of evil delight.

"You scare me."

"Thanks, it comes naturally."

Helga lightly elbowed Phoebe in the stomach. "That's no fair, I wanted the stereo system!"

Phoebe patted Helga's head with her free hand, "No worries, you'll get the 24 inch TV and it's stand."

"Yay!"

Sid lightly slapped Phoebe's hand. "No I am not dying, nor am I going to die anytime soon. So I'll be keeping both my stereo system and my TV."

"Damn."

"No, double damn, Phoebe, double damn."

"And if I am dying anytime soon, I'll know for sure it was you two and you both poisoned my food!"

"Nah, that's not Helga or my style."

"Then pray tell, what is?"

"We would rather have Colonel Mustard kill you."

"In the kitchen."

"With a pipe."

Both females smiled deviously at Sid.

"So, what my associate, Miss. Heyerdahl, is trying to say is, you better watch yourself whenever you enter a kitchen, 'cause you never know when a rather large and burly guy wearing all yellow suit will sneak up behind and kill you with a metal pipe."

"Ain't life a bitch."

"And then ya die!"

"You know what, you both scare me."

"Sid, shut up and just tell us–"

"That's an oxymoron Helga."

Helga turned to face Phoebe, "You can shut up too!" Then she turned her attention back to the very wide eye Sid. "And you what has got you acting like some crazed idiot high off helium."

"And weed."

"Phoebe!"

"Shutting up." Phoebe pulled an imaginary zipper shut over her mouth and then she took a '_key'_ and '_locked'_ up her mouth, before throwing away the 'key'.

"Good, now Sid, talk!"

"Well, I finally... nah, never mind, you guys don't want to hear my story."

Helga grabbed the collar of Sid's brown leather jacket, which was given to him by herself and Phoebe only six days ago. "You are going to talk, and talk now! Do you know how hard it is to actually keep Phoebe from making any smarmy comments?"

"Did you just say smarmy?"

"Yes, yes I did. Now, talk before I kill you and take your TV!"

"Fine. If you must know, I finally asked Sheena out."

"And she said yes, right?" Phoebe asked exuberantly.

"Didn't I tell you to shut up?"

"You can't rule me Pataki!"

"No I can't," Helga sighed. "But I can destroy your Princess Powder Puff collection."

"You wouldn't!"

"I would."

Phoebe opened her mouth before she quickly realized the truth. She sighed, "Yea, you would, I'll shut up now."

"Good, now continue Sid."

"Phoebe's right, she did say yes."

"Congratulations on finally growing balls Sid, Phoebe and I are very proud. She would tell you herself, but if she spoke, her prized collection would all be enjoying a nice toasty, not to mention roasty fire tonight at my house."

"That is, if you ever find them." Phoebe stuck out her tongue at Helga, "So Sid, do explain why you celebrated by kissing Helga twice and me once?"

"I figured you guys wouldn't want to be left out of my absolute happiness."

"Oh, you're so… _sweet _Sid."

"I do try Helga, I do try."

Phoebe folded her arms over her chest and mock glared at Sid. "I am not pleased. You kissed more times than me."

"I did, didn't I. Do you still have onion breath?"

"You know it!"

"Good," Sid leaned in and kissed Phoebe, meanwhile his hand reached out and stole the remaining half of Phoebe's sandwich. "There now you two are even."

"Yea, and you have my sandwich."

Sid happily munched on Phoebe's sandwich.

"Fortunately I was done with my lunch."

Helga folded her arms over her chest as she leaned her chair back. "Why are we all friends again?"

Phoebe shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"It's because I have the power, Phoebe has the money, and you have the connections, together we're unstoppable."

Helga nodded in agreement with Sid's explanation. "For once perv boy speaks the truth!"

Phoebe rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

"And by the way Phoebe, 17, 74, 37."

"Huh?"

"That's the combo to the safe that holds the majority of your collection."

"You're despicable."

"I know."

(YL)

_B E E P! This is a disclaimer! _I do not own Hey Arnold! 'Cause if I did, the poor show would be even more corrupt with my crazy, and not to mention, corrupted thoughts! Thank you Justin T. Melanson, Jaded Angel, Xandiira, Demille, Yuikey, Katy, Drucilla Black, Bleeding in Vein, Rellik-06, and What's their Name for the encouraging and wonderful reviews.

PS:

_Justin T. Melanson_, on the nose as usually. It will be happening next chapter, it will not only be big, but a catalyst for a large number of event that will eventually lead to the end of the story.

_BellaMay76_, where are you, you are very missed.

_Everybody_, I believe that YL will be done by June 2005, unguaranteed! And I do mean unguaranteed. Oh and I just want to mention that Stella and Miles Crinshaw– Arnold's parents are alive I will revise one the earlier chapters to say that… I kinda need them to finish out the story as planned.

Next Chapter: The First Few Letters of...

Click the button, it has been having withdrawal clicking problems for the last few months. Just put it out of its misery and click the darn review button

S.L. Cipher (Who will gladly accept all criticisms, advice, reviews, praises, and flames with a large Cheshire Cat like smile just because Cheshire Cat like smiles can piss people off and Cipher loves pissing people off because it is exceptional fun... Especially when they try and attack you. That's why it is so important to always have a mace and a sword on hand– it helps to keep those crazy people off your back!)

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«·́̈·The Cipher ·́̈·»  
(̧.·'́(̧.·'́ ̈ '·.̧)'·.̧.)


	13. The First Few Letters of

Everyone changes with time. A day, a week, a month, a year... they all count. So how much can a group of rag tag 4th graders from P.S. 118 change with junior high, high school, and a whole bunch of history between those seven years? A whole lot.

**Years Later**

_The First Few Letters of..._

BEEP!

BEEP!

BEEP!

Helga let one hand creep from underneath the warmth of her covers and let wave through the cool December morning air before she turned her clock off, but instead of getting up she lied very still in her bed, trying to ward of the tired spell on her.

_I know I shouldn't of taken that damn shift_, she thought as she rubbed her eyes, _what was I thinking taking a shift starting at ten thirty pm that let up at four thirty in the morning?_

Helga could hear another part of her reply, _not much, considering you don't think all that much really_, but decided to ignore it, after all, only crazy people actually talk to themselves and hear an answer, and Helga Pataki was anything but crazy. Unique, yes, bitchy, yup, sarcastic, definitely, stubborn, as a bull, but crazy?

Definitely not.

Helga was very tempted to stay home all day, but knew she couldn't and definitely didn't want to.

It seemed that Bob and Lexie were on the best terms they had been in months, so now the bimbo was once again taking up residence at 1422 L Street, much to Helga's utter annoyance.

Helga did not think that spending her Wednesday with a bimbo that loved to steal her ciggies seemed like a good day.

_But, I'll just shut my eyes for a second... and then I'll start getting ready... yeah... that's what I'll do..._

And close her eyes, Helga Pataki did, but she did not open then a second later, or ten seconds later, not a minute either. Not even five minutes... no, instead they were opened half an hour later, when a certain blonde first grader decided that it was the most opportune time to practice her Olympic winning Bedapult skills so early in the morning.

Helga cracked one eye and glared at her younger sister, who seemed to be ignoring her blithely, one of the countless bad habits she had picked from Sid. "W-what are you doing," Helga paused as she yawned. "Up so early?"

Hilda, who was already dressed for school in the clothes Helga had set aside for her last night, stopped jumping up and down to sit on her older sister's bed with the look that almost resembled a perfectly angelic cherub.

Almost.

Hilda was smirking– a bad habit she had picked up from both her older sister and Phoebe. "What do you mean, early? It's already seven ten."

Helga's eyes landed on her clock in panic, and there it was in bright neon pink '7:10 a.m.' Helga had exactly twenty six minutes to shower, get dressed, get breakfast, make Hilda's lunch, walk Hilda over to P.S. 118, catch her seven twenty bus that would arrive at the bus stop by her school around seven twenty eight, and get to school before the first bell rang seven thirty-two, warning students that they had exactly four minutes to get to class before they were marked late.

"SHIT!"

Hilda wagged one finger at Helga. "Tut, tut, you just said a bad word! You shouldn't ever say a bad word, 'member!"

Helga calmly looked at her sister, disregarding her dilemma for a moment, "How about three?"

Hilda shrugged her shoulders.

"SHIT FUCKERS!"

Hilda giggled and Helga smiled before she looked at the clock, now she only had twenty five minutes.

Helga shot out of her bed an ran for the shower, which was hopefully not being occupied by either the drunkenly stupid bastard with a hearing problem or the stuck up witch who was as sharp as a spoon and probably couldn't tell the difference between a spoon and a knife.

(YL)

Helga ran out of the house, dragging her sister behind her, very thankful that snow had not yet begun to fall in Hillwood, New Jersey. She only had two minutes to catch her bus and had a five minute walk to her sister's school.

In other words, Helga Geraldine Pataki, was very screwed, so screwed that in a way she was unscrewed.

"Wait, Helga."

Helga stopped and raised an eyebrow at Hilda. "What's wrong, you know we have to hurry."

"No, I can go to Eva's house and her mom will take me to school." She pointed to the house right behind her. "Her house is right here."

"But–"

"It'll be easier, plus Mrs. Baxter loves having me over!"

Helga checked her watch; she now had a minute to catch her bus. "Okay. Let's just be quick about it."

Hilda ran up to the door and rang the doorbell and an eternity passed by before Mrs. Baxter opened the door and greeted the first grader, when it was only ten seconds. Helga explained to the older woman her situation, and within seconds Hilda was waving goodbye to her older sister, as Helga ran down the empty streets.

By the luck of some god, Helga was able to catch her bus, because Terry, the bus driver was late, something that never happened, but by some stroke of luck, it did that day.

Helga sat in her usual seat in the bus near the back door and leaning her head against the window, smiling happily.

Today was going to be a good day, she decided look at the sun that had just begun it rise into the sky.

(YL)

Helga happily walked into Crinshaw High School, which shocked any person that knew Helga Pataki well enough to know that she never walked into school with any emotion by utter displeasure.

Phoebe arched a single dark eyebrow, "And what are we smiling about?" Phoebe pretended to gasp, it was a good thing she did not want to be an actress or she would not be getting far at all in life. "Don't tell me you got laid last night... but wait a minute... Ian's not here, so who was it?"

Helga smacked Phoebe in the back of her head before she opened her locker. "Shut up Vega. People are allowed to be happy every once in a while."

Phoebe said nothing more, instead she looked to the window that gave anyone who actually paid attention, had a fantastic view of the football field. She put a hand over her eyebrows as if she was searching for something.

Helga said nothing as her best friend comically looked outside the window in the middle of a fairly busy hallway on the second floor of Crinshaw High School, no instead of telling her best friend how ridiculous she looked she just continued to get out the books she needed to merrily start her day in Hell.

Sid walked over to the pair with a lazy smile on his face; he took a glance at Phoebe before he turned to Helga. "What is she doing?"

Helga did not look up from the book she was reading, she unfortunately realized that she had four minutes to read four chapters before taking a test in Language Arts. "To find out that question, young one, you must seek it from the wise crack headed maniac yourself."

Sid smiled, it was just another normal Tuesday morning... at least as normal as Sid's morning could get with Phoebe and Helga being his best friends.

Sid tapped Phoebe on her shoulder and the petite female turned around to look at him with a very blank face. "What exactly are we up to Phoebe Gintsuko Heyerdahl?"

"We," Phoebe said as she pointed a thumb towards herself. "Are look for any large meteors falling to the Earth, the sun disappearing, large tornadoes, tremors in the ground, or any other telltale signs of the Apocalypse. Why do you ask?"

"Um, why?"

"Helga said it was okay for people to walk into school happy."

Sid looked back at forth at the smirking Phoebe Heyerdahl and the unpleased Helga Pataki as she quickly read, or rather skimmed through the four long chapters that were given as homework two days ago.

"I question both of your sanity, along with mine just because I voluntarily choose to associate myself with you both."

Helga snorted, but did not even bother to look up to let Sid see the smirk that he knew was gracing the blonde's face as she sarcastically said, "Wow, you used two _big _vocabulary words in one sentence. Are you okay Sid? 'Cause I'm sure your brain must be hurting from all that _hard _thinking!"

Phoebe petted Sid's head. "That's normal, I question my sanity quite frequently." She then turned around to look out the window once again. "Now back to my Apocalypse watch... yay!"

"Crackwhore." Helga mumbled under her breath, but kept on reading.

"Why do I even bother to put up with either of you?"

Helga finally stopped reading and winked at Sid. "Because we are so darn lovable."

"Plus we're damn sexy." Phoebe added with a large grin that even the Cheshire Cat would envy.

Sid closed his eye and leaned against a closed locker with his arms folded over his chest. "I don't know about the first half of your explanation, but I defiantly agree with the second half."

And before he knew it, a Language Arts book and a Trigonometry notebook was flying his way.

(YL)

"How the hell is it possible that you, who did not read, got a freaking ninety on that stupid quiz, while I, who read those four freaking chapters TWICE, only got a freaking eighty." Sid complained for what seemed like the umpteenth time at his score, when it was only third period, and they didn't even have second period together.

"Because," Phoebe said as she took random notes as their inept teacher confused chemical formulas with molecular formulas. "Helga's got skills."

"Oh shut up."

"Of course Ms. Drama Queen. It's okay that you're just not up to par with my level. You'll get their eventually."

Phoebe snorted. "Yeah, in about four years or so."

Sid crossed his arms over his chest in a huff. "I hate you both."

"No you don't. You could never hate me or Pheebs."

Sid continued to pout.

Phoebe and Helga both kissed Sid on the cheek. "Now stop pouting and be the abnormally perverted self again."

"I am not perverted Phoebe, I just like to express myself... and my needs... and my wants... and–"

"Your erotic dreams?"

Phoebe and Sid continued to argue with each other over Sid's perversion, but after five minutes, Helga tuned them out.

The class was startled when they heard the sound of...

...KC and the Sunshine Band?

Phoebe, Helga, and Sid all _looked _as astounded as their class and teacher were and _looked _around for the source of the sound, even though they all knew that it was Helga's ringtone for anyone's number that she did not have in programmed in her phone.

The phone stopped ringing, but Helga had a feeling it would start ringing again. She raised her hand and asked Ms. Zuhoshky to go to the bathroom and once she was excused, she took off in a sprint in the opposite direction of the nearest bathroom. Somehow, Ms. Zuhoshky didn't notice, just like she didn't notice when Phoebe asked to go to the bathroom, and went in the same direction Helga had five minutes ago. In the opposite direction of the nearest water fountain.

Phoebe found Helga quite easily; after all, there were only a few places in the school where you could actually get good service. The blonde was in the empty entrance area of the school's auditorium, sitting on the ground and huddled in a corner with her back against the large windows and her head in her lap.

Phoebe plopped herself down next to her. "So who was it? Your secret lover that you've never told me about?"

"No."

"Then who?"

"Hillwood Hospital."

"The hospital? Why would they call you?"

Helga was suddenly very quiet except for her heavy breathing. And it was at this moment that Phoebe saw the way her friend's back was irregularly rising up and down, the way it usually did when she was fighting back tears, Phoebe's eyes then landed on the broken pink pieces of Helga's phone scattered by a brick wall.

Now, Phoebe was worried. "Helga, what's wrong?"

Silence.

"Helga, tell me what the fuck is wrong, right now!"

Helga raised her face out of her lap and Phoebe now saw the black streaks of tears mixed mascara that covered Helga's face. She mumbled an answer, but all Phoebe caught was accident, car, and hospital.

"What?"

"Mrs. Baxter's car got hit on the way to P.S. 118."

Phoebe raised an eyebrow. She did not think that Helga was that close to Mrs. Baxter to actually cry about the woman. "Why are you upset?"

"Hilda was in that car with her."

(YL)

I do not own Hey Arnold! And I doubt I ever will in this universe... now in another universe, it might be negotiable. Thank you Demile, Garlic Blanket, Starry Nights, Drucilla Black, CaramelAriana, and Raine84 for the awe inspiring reviews.

Can you actually tell me you were expecting that ending?

PS:

_Raine84_, Sid tells them that he asked Nadine out to a date and she says yes. As Helga says, he finally grew some balls.

Jaded Angel, Justine T. Melanson, and BellaMay76 were are y'all? I miss you guys!

Next Chapter: ... Goodbye?

Click the button, it has been having withdrawal clicking problems for the last few months. Just put it out of its misery and click the darn review button

S.L. Cipher (Who will gladly accept all criticisms, advice, reviews, praises, and flames with a large Cheshire Cat like smile just because Cheshire Cat like smiles can piss people off and Cipher loves pissing people off because it is exceptional fun... Especially when they try and attack you. That's why it is so important to always have a mace and a sword on hand– it helps to keep those crazy people off your back!)

('·.̧('·.̧··̧.·'́)̧.·'́)  
«·́̈·The Cipher ·́̈·»  
(̧.·'́(̧.·'́ ̈ '·.̧)'·.̧.)


	14. Goodbye?

Everyone changes with time. A day, a week, a month, a year... they all count. So how much can a group of rag tag 4th graders from P.S. 118 change with junior high, high school, and a whole bunch of history between those seven years? A whole lot.

**Years Later**

_...Goodbye?_

Phoebe froze as she watched through now very blurry eyes as Helga G. Pataki, once childhood bully, sat on the ground crying as her body seemed to be breaking apart as her body wracked. She could feel the tears on the back of her eyes and could see them blurring her vision, but she could do nothing.

She was frozen.

Somewhere, in the far distance that was no where near the small world where Helga and Phoebe resided, the bell rang once, signaling the end of third period, before it rang four minutes later, telling faculty and students alike that fourth period had begun. At least had begun for everyone but Helga and Phoebe, who were still stuck six minutes in the past.

Finally, after sitting still for what could only be described as the cliched term eternity, Phoebe was able to snap herself out of the enclosed world. She wrapped her arms around her sobbing friend and gathered her into her arms before resting her head on top of hers.

She whispered softly, almost as if she were afraid to break the fragile bubble that separated them from the rest of the world, "It'll be okay, I promise... We'll find a way to get out of school and get to her... I promise, I promise... she's strong, just like her older sister... she'll be okay." And that's how the two best friends stayed for ten minutes, with Phoebe whispering comforting words to Helga rocking her back and forth as Helga cried, letting the salty and black tears sink into Phoebe's once pristine white shirt.

"It'll be alright... I promise... I promise... I promise..."

**(Y/L)**

After Helga was finally able to calm herself down to a level where only a few errant tears escaped her red puffy eyes and crawled down her black streaked face, Phoebe and Helga decided to leave the school and take a bus to hospital because ironically, today was the only day in the last few weeks when Phoebe's mother had decided to actually drive her Ferrari to work. Neither teenagers minded though, they both had enough money to get them on the bus to the hospital and take them home. The two would have probably would have left school without a problem, if it wasn't for the fact that the cosmos had decided it was the day for Helga's karmic retribution and had Principal McNielson find himself by the front doors of the school exactly when Helga and Phoebe were trying to leave.

Immediately the principal had both girls dragged back inside of the school and no matter how many times Helga or even Phoebe, who actually didn't have a bad reputation or bad record, tried to explain the grave situation, McNielson did not believe them.

Helga and Phoebe stood there at the front desk arguing with the man for fourteen minutes and thirty-two seconds straight, getting no where with the very stubborn and obnoxious man.

Meanwhile Arnold and Sid walked down the hallway both skipping Mr. Romano's health class for different reasons—Arnold because he simply didn't want to go and Sid because he was missing one Phoebe G. Heyerdahl and one Helga Geraldine Pataki. Both males were shocked to see Helga, whose face was covered with dark streaks running from her eyes all the way down her cheeks, being supported upwards by Phoebe as the small Asian virtually cursed out their principal.

From the distance they were standing from the group the only could make out a few words, but the few words that Sid could make out– Sister, Car, Accident, and Hospital– sent Sid Gifaldi running towards them, with Arnold running at his heels.

Instantly Sid went to Helga's and Phoebe's side, "What's wrong?"

Phoebe held on protectively to Helga, "Hilda got into a car accident and is in the hospital, and because of this bastard," She pointed to the very indignant and annoyed Principal McNielson. "We can't go to the hospital."

McNielson looked at two high school football stars as the both raised an eyebrow at him, "I can't be too sure that this is legitimate first of all and two they need a phone call or a note before the can leave the premises! Plus given Pataki's record and all..." The man trailed off, letting the sentence hang in the air.

Sid glared at the principal as he wrapped an arm around Helga's waist, "I believe her and think she should be excused."

"I believe she should be excused also, can you really stop someone from seeing their loved one when they just got into a car accident." Helga, Sid, and Phoebe looked at Arnold, shocked that he actually spoke up at all.

McNielson squirmed under the scrutiny of two of Hillwood's own personal gods before he actually spoke up, "Well, ahem, if you two are willing to vouch for," He paused for a moment taking a deep breath as if what he was about to say was painful for him. "_Pataki _and Heyerdahl, then I guess it will be okay for them to leave."

Somewhere in the back of Sid's mind, the teen could only feel disgusted, disgusted to know how much leeway and power the people of Hillwood would give _The Golden Ones_, but at this moment and time he couldn't really complain, it was one of the few times were he would use to his advantage for something good. Without another word, Sid ushered Helga and Phoebe out of the building with Arnold following behind them.

Phoebe threw a very tight and controlled smile at Sid, he knew that she was thankful, but at this moment in time her mind seemed to be preoccupied by something else. Both friends sadly turned to look at the broken Helga Pataki, "Thanks. We're gonna go to catch a bus and go to the hospital, alright."

Sid raised an eyebrow. "Why don't you just use your mother's toy car?"

Phoebe snorted as she thought of the irony of it all. "Sadly the one time we need it, is the one time she goes and uses it."

"But you can't take the bus, it'll take too long to get to Hilly."

"Then what–"

Helga walked over to the pair. "Can you both stop, I just want to get to my sister's side right now."

Both Phoebe and Sid were sending each other signals with their eyes not really sure what to say or do, and they all stayed that way for a moment, until Sid finally spoke up. "We know, but we just need to find a fast transportation there, it's not like we can get a car–"

"But I can."

Once again Arnold Linshaw surprised the group of best friends.

The blonde football captain did not squirm underneath the gaze of the trio, in fact he did not seem disconcerted by it at all, "I'll be right back, let me just get the person." And with that Arnold Linshaw, the all American Football Quarterback, took off running, back into the school, to find Helga G. Pataki, Phoebe G. Heyerdahl, and Sid Gifaldi, a ride to the get to the side of Hilda G. Pataki, Helga G. Pataki's younger sister.

**(YL)**

To all of their surprise, the ride that Arnold went to retrieve was one from the owner of the dark blue Mitsubishi Eclipse Spyder that sat in a golden parking space of Crinshaw High School's parking lot.

The name of the owner of said car, the one and only Gerald Johanssen.

Sid, Helga, and Phoebe were not sure how Arnold was able to get Gerald to come and drive them to the hospital but within moments of entering the school, he reemerged with Gerald beside him. They all piled into the tricked out car, with Gerald and Arnold in the front, and Phoebe, Helga and Sid in the back, with Helga sitting between the pair as they comforted her by rocking her back and forth in their arms. Each taking their turn, knowing that they falling apart inside just as much as Helga, but knew that they had to be there for her first before they could allow themselves to break down.

Needless to say, the ride was quiet and solemn for the most part, until Helga said, "What if she doesn't make it?"

To which Phoebe responded, "She will, she's as much as a stubborn fighter as her idolized elder sister. Have faith in her Blondie, and I'm sure she won't let you down."

"But she has sic–"

"She'll make it."

A group of rebellious tears escaped Helga's eyes. "I hate hospitals."

Phoebe rested her head on top Helga's and took a deep breath before she exhaled. "I know baby, I know."

The trio rushed inside the hospital with Arnold and Gerald silently following behind them. Once they had succeeded in pushing every person out their way, they found out where Hilda was and were guided to her room by a very silent nurse.

And there they found her, lying in a bed behind a glass window in a standard hospital gown, with wires poking at every inch of her small body, covered with purple bruises and viscously angry red cut marks, and blonde hair that was at one point in two neat pigtails in disarray cluttered with dirt and clumps of red. Her eyes were closed and the machine beside her bed was steadily beating, making sure that they all knew that she was still alive.

Helga pressed her make-up smudged face on the glass window, sighing in relief before she whispered, "She's still here with me."

Phoebe hugged Helga close to her as Sid kept an arm around both of them. She opened her mouth to say something encouraging and comforting, when a tall doctor in a white jacket walked into the antechamber of the room and asked, "Who is Miss," The doctor looked down the clipboard in his hand. "Pataki's family?"

"Me."

The doctor threw a small smile at Helga and she could see right through the flimsy smile, she had been in hospitals one two many times and now could read doctors fairly well. She said nothing, hoping that, that fake smile meant only something good, rather than something bad. "Could you please follow me, Miss..." The man trailed off.

"Helga Pataki." Helga said as she followed the man out of the room.

Sid and Phoebe watched apprehensively as Helga left the room.

And the room was quiet and still with no one breathing a word or moving an inch.

After a while of watching Hilda, Sid guided Phoebe down to one of the seats by the wall opposite of the window into Hilda's room, but Phoebe could not stand sitting for long. She stood up almost immediately and when Sid, Arnold, and Gerald, gave her questioning looks, Phoebe threw them all a small smile, "I'm just g-going to, uhhh, get us some tea and coffee and maybe hot chocolate f-from the kitchen," She looked down at Sid, "You wait... wait here for Helga to get back, okay?"

Phoebe did not even wait for an answer; she just left the room, knowing the way around the hospital that her parents worked in.

Sid sat in the room, the usually perverted jester sat silently. "Gerald?"

Gerald raised an eyebrow at Sid.

"Follow her for me, please... I–I have to wait for Helga to get back... with..." He trailed off silently as his dark eyes refocused themselves on the little girl behind the glass window.

Gerald looked at his friend for a moment before he did as he asked, he followed Phoebe. I took him a while to find the small Asian, considering he did not know his way around the hospital like she did, so he had to ask a few nurses until he found the kitchen on the floor of the hospital that they were on. But when he did find it, he did not see Phoebe Heyerdahl making coffee, tea, or hot chocolate. No instead what he found was one Phoebe Heyerdahl sitting in the corner of the empty kitchen with her knees tucked in and her head on her knees as she finally allowed herself to cry.

Gerald just sat down beside and said nothing as he allowed her to finish what she had started. Phoebe finally calmed down enough so that she could actually speak, her eyes were rimmed in pink, her cheeks seemed tinged in a pink, and her nose could have rivaled Rudolph's but she had calmed down.

For a while she and Gerald spoke about the differences between coffee, latte, and espresso, and then talked about random topics that could keep Phoebe's mind off of the little girl she had come to think of as a younger sister, laying in a bed with wires and tubes covering her. And for a while things were okay, at least they were until Gerald said, "You know the last time we actually talked liked this..." Gerald trailed off, not really wanting finish his sentence, but Phoebe was more than willing to finish it for him.

"Since the end of eighth grade, right before I found out that my supposed boyfriend was seeing one Kamelia Alba behind my back... was that what you were going to say?"

And then, there was silence.

When Gerald finally did open his mouth to say something, Phoebe had already gotten up from the floor and moved to get some styrofoam cups, "You know what, I think I'm ready to get the coffee, tea, and hot chocolate ready, I'm sure they're waiting for us," She turned around and looked down at Gerald as she wiped a few of her tears from her puffy eyes. "So what does Arnold like... tea, hot chocolate, or coffee?"

**(YL)**

When Phoebe and Gerald reentered the antechamber of Hilda's room with the mixture of tea, coffee, and hot chocolate, they found Helga sitting down in chair next to Sid. Phoebe immediately put down the cups she was holding and ran to Helga's side. "What's going on?"

Helga didn't answer, so Sid did it for her, "The accident was really bad, Hilda right leg was twisted, but they were able to pop it back straight and she lost a good amount of blood, but they were able to give her some from the all the donated blood they had,"

Phoebe smiled shakily, "That's good."

"But there were some complications. She had a crisis and she was really in pain, they gave her some medicine to relieve the pain and some other medication so she could go to sleep but they are afraid the crisis might last a bit linger than a day or so because of the accident," He paused for a moment to look down at the mute blonde sitting next to them. "They're afraid she'll get a lung infection or acute chest syndrome."

"But she's okay, right?"

Sid said nothing, as if he had become tongueless. Helga nodded her head slowly before she finally spoke up, "Yea, for now."

**(YL)**

Sorry, but I still don't own Hey Arnold! Because if I did I would have a whole lot more money that two dollars to my name... Gee, a month has passed already... hehe (.) I hadn't noticed... But I would like to say thank you to Jaded Angel, Yzibella, Drucilla Black, Garlic Blanket, Inferna, Starry-Eyez888, Shadow Goddess Akhet, Princess Amanda, Kitten Siren, Aaweth, Mannick, and azngurlenluv for the wonderful review that encouraged me to get back on my lazy bum to type this chapter on my computer.

For the readers of FF, I will try and get another chapter out by next week Friday... I just have some standardized testing that I have to deal with for three days straight before I can right again... the horror!

Oh and I changed something back in chapter 4, just to let you know, all I did was say that Arnold's parents are alive and living with him and his grandparents, nothing big... at least for you, for me it was essential to the plot... but if you're lazy like me and don't want to go back and read it, now you know what I changed.

Oh and just to let everyone know who doesn't know, periods of pain for a person with sickle cell anemia is usually called a crisis, which may vary in severity, how often they happen, and how long they last. Whereas one person may have only one sickle cell crisis a year, another may experience crises more often. Crises can be brief, or may last hours, days, or even weeks. Symptoms can develop in any body organ or tissue and include aching arms, legs, hips, and shoulders. When people with sickle cell disease get acute chest syndrome, which is caused by infection or trapped red blood cells in the lungs, they may have severe chest and abdominal pain, fever, cough, and trouble breathing. People with sickle cell anemia are more likely to get infections in the lungs, bones, blood, and urinary tract. And if anyone has any more information about let me know.

PS:

_U_, if you would like to point out where I made the mistakes instead of being an ass and just leaving that comment that would be helpful. And if you find so many mistakes in my story, if you would like to leave and e-mail address or anything like it to become my beta reader, that would also be helpful. Thank you.

_To everyone else_, I hope I didn't keep y'all waiting to long...

**Next Chapter**: Schwanengesang– The Swan Song

Do remember to click the shiny review button, because an abandoned review button is a disgruntled and very sad review buttons. So click it and save a review button.

S.L. Cipher– The Queen of Eville (No this not a spelling mistake but a higher echelon of evil, look it up in _The New Cipher Dictionary of Cipherous Lexiconography_) who will gladly accept all criticisms, advice, reviews, praises, and flames with a large Cheshire Cat Smile. Why the Cheshire Cat Smile? Why, because Cheshire Cat Smiles will always piss people off and Cipher loves pissing people off because it is exceptional fun... Especially when they try and attack you. Which is exactly why when one wields the Cheshire Cat Smile, it is important that they must also wield a mace and a sword.

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«·́̈·The Cipher ·́̈·»  
(̧.·'́(̧.·'́ ̈ '·.̧)'·.̧.)


	15. Schwanengesang

Everyone changes with time. A day, a week, a month, a year... they all count. So how much can a group of rag tag 4th graders from P.S. 118 change with junior high, high school, and a whole bunch of history between those seven years? A whole lot.

**Years Later**

_Schwanengesang–The Swan Song_

They were all a wreck.

All three of them.

Sid D. Gifaldi.

Phoebe G. Heyerdahl.

Helga G. Pataki.

_Especially _Helga G. Pataki.

Both Phoebe and Helga were already losing a noticeable amount weight, considering both females were spending every free minute in the hospital, running on two hours of rest– sometimes they were so tired that they would both fall asleep in the middle of class, and they were smoking more than they ate. Plus Helga was pulling double shifts at Patty's and her eyes always seemed to be red and puffy everyday when she walked into school,... it was a wonder to those who knew– meaning Sid, Phoebe Gerald, and Arnold– that neither female had actually fainted yet. Somehow, just somehow, neither had yet.

Although, Sid was no better himself. He tended not to eat as much, a great feat for someone who was dubbed _The Bottomless Iron Stomach_ by his teammates; he had dark rings under his eye from his lack of sleep– only running on three hours of sleep each day, and was walking around like the living dead during the school day.

Even Coach Grant had noticed Sid's condition.

He was barely even benching ten reps of 60 pounds during weight room practice. This concerned Grant very much, after all, the State Championship was approaching very quickly, it was only four days away.

They were all a wreck.

All three of them.

**(Y/L)**

The room was fairly quiet. The only sounds that were keeping Helga company was the turned on t.v. that she had long abandoned watching, her pencil on her paper– the one that was due in about four hours, and the sound of the heart monitor– slowly and steadily beeping with every beat of her sister's heart.

Helga sat in a very stiff and very uncomfortable wooden chair with a non-existent cushion on it that was placed conveniently by the Hilda's bedside. Most of the wires and tubes had been removed but a quite a few remained, poking and prodding into her small frame. Hilda still slept serenely in the bed of her new "home" with her light blonde hair splayed across the standard white hospital pillow with some strands sticking to her pale face, dark lashes fanning against her clammy skin, and wrapped in a cocoon of the standard white hospital sheets, completely unaware how grave the situation around her was.

As hard as the doctors had tried, Hilda still got it.

She had acute chest syndrome along with a crises. She was going threw the pain of her body being pinched everywhere, especially in her chest area, not even understanding why it was happening to her. All the young Pataki knew, was that whenever she woke up screaming from pain, a doctor or nurse would run in and give her painkiller to dull the painful episode and then they would give her some medicine that would make her go to sleep.

Her room had been monitored by the hospital twenty four-seven for the last two weeks.

She didn't even understand, but Helga did.

In fact she understood too well.

She knew that at one point Hilda had a fever that was borderline one hundred and five degrees. It was as if she had gotten a case of pneumonia, but it wasn't.

It was much, much worse.

She knew her sister's hands and feet were swelling, she knew her sister was experience short of breath, she knew that the doctors were still injecting her with penicillin and she knew it was only a matter of time.

Helga got out of her seat stretching for a moment before she walked over to the large window to the right of Hilda's prone body.

She found herself looking outside at the early December morning, two floors above the ground. It was the seventh of December and in four days Hilda would be another year older, in six days her mother will have spent another year in Rosedale Cemetery, on 73rd street off of Glendale Drive.

It was cruelly ironic.

Devastatingly, horribly, cruelly, ironic.

Fate, the Cosmos, Destiny, whatever you wanted to call her– yes _her_– had never liked Helga G. Pataki. She had a demented vendetta against Helga and took pride in hurting her and pushing her down whenever she tripped or lost her way. She loved shoving Helga off a cliff, whenever she got too close to the edge and took sick, sick pleasure in watching Helga tumble over whenever she fell from that cliff.

And people wondered why Helga was so sarcastic and cynical.

She heard the door open behind and she did not even have to turn around to know who it was.

"Phoebe, I'm not ready to go yet."

The Asian female _hmphed_, "Yea, but you're exhausted."

Helga pressed her face against the cool window and relished in the peace that she almost felt.

Almost.

"You're one to talk."

"Yea, I know, but I did get a grand total of three and a half hours of sleep, and I got Sid to stay at home and sleep tonight– or rather last night, so now you need to get some sleep."

"No, I have to finish my paper."

Phoebe walked over to the blonde and guided her to the coach that was opposite of Hilda's bed, "Some much to do, so little time... well, I'll finish for you." She pushed Helga down onto the couch and then forced her to lay down. "Now sleep."

"Why?" Helga whispered as she felt a blanket being pulled over her, she didn't why Phoebe bothered with it, Helga was too numb to feel anything anyway.

"Why what?"

"Why do I feel like I'm falling apart on the inside?"

Phoebe paused, she just stopped what was doing. She found herself sitting down in the couch, near Helga's long legs without even realizing what her body was doing, until it was done. "Because... because the truth is... the truth is th-that we all are."

Helga reached out her hand and Phoebe took it in hers and that's how they sat for the next three hours, before they had to get up and head back to Crinshaw High School, bidding their time before they could leave and head back to the hospital.

**(Y/L)**

"Sid, you look like hell!" Wolfgang said as the junior closed his football practice locker. They had just finished their night practice and it was approaching ten o'clock. Technically no team was supposed to practice that late.

But technically, no one wanted to mess with Coach Grant.

Sid raised a raven eyebrow as he finished toweling his dark hair of its excess water. "You do wonders for my ego Wolfy."

It was Friday, the tenth of December and tomorrow was the day.

The day that all of Crinshaw was looking forward to, the day where the Golden Ones would once again prove why they had the deity status they had in the town, the day the Spartans waited for the entire school year, even after finishing it, they longed for it once again, waiting for it all through the summer time.

The day, you ask?

Why the day of the State Championship, of course.

"Yea, you're starting to resemble a string bean, man. Bottomless Pit, what happened? Did all that food catch up to you? I mean, you're not even eating two lunches like you usually do." Harold added from the bench he sat on, right next to Arnold and Gerald.

Sid shrugged his shoulders once again. "What can I say, I've lost my appetite."

"_Right_," Wolfgang said, sitting down next to Harold, obviously not believing a word coming out of Sid's mouth. But couldn't blame them, he wouldn't believe a word coming out of his own mouth if he had the time to actually think about what exactly was going on around him.

"What can I say," Sid looked in Arnold and Gerald's direction. "Do you two have any comments for me? "Cause it seems to be _Reach Out and Help Sid Delano Gifaldi _Day."

Gerald quickly shook his head no, but Arnold on the other hand, decided to open his mouth. "You look sick, you have bags underneath your eyes, you've barely been able to catch my throws, you've barely been able to keep the defensive players off of you in practice, basically Sid," He said as he got up from his seat and walked over to Sid and put his hands on his shoulders. "I think you need a day of rest. If I see you tomorrow at the game, good. If I don't," Arnold shrugged his shoulders. "That's just as good."

With that said Arnold patted Sid on the back and left the locker room throwing out a goodbye as he left.

Gerald followed him, after all he was Arnold's ride home... or non-home, considering they were going out to the movies with Kamelia and Lila.

Eventually Wolfgang and Harold left, leaving Sid '_Pretty Boy'_ Gifaldi, virtually alone in the locker room, and there all alone in his corner of the locker room, Sid Gifaldi actually allowed to the tears to come to his eyes.

The tears he never privileged himself to let come over the past two weeks and three days.

The tears that had been prickling his eyes for the last two weeks and three days.

He just let them come and wash him away.

He just let himself cry, and cry, and cry.

**(Y/L)**

Phoebe grabbed a pair of change of clothes for herself, Helga, and Sid– both of whom had emergency clothing stashed at her house– in a blue duffle bag that waited patiently on her bed. Once that was done she grabbed three disposable toothbrushes and some toothpaste, a few books, a Princess Powder Puff Video, Hilda's birthday present, her CD player, a few CDs, and a comic book or two and stuffed those in the bag before she deemed the bag worthy of being closed, and close the bag she did. She threw the duffel bag over her shoulders and put on pair of sneakers.

After grabbing the keys to her mother's Ferrari and a thick winter blanket off of her dresser, Phoebe made her way out of her room and down the stair, and was almost out the door when she heard, "Phoebe Heyerdahl, where do you think you're going?"

Phoebe pivoted around and was shocked to see her mother and father standing there, she had not seen the pair for at least a week. "Well, as you know, the sister of my best friend is in the hospital, and I'm going to visit. It's not a school night, so it's not like it matters when I get home."

"And how do you plan on getting there?" Her father, Hiroshi Heyerdahl, asked.

She held up the Ferrari keys.

"And you where going off with _my _car, without _my _permission!" Her mother, Irina Heyerdahl, screeched.

Phoebe did not even bat an eyelash. "You're hardly around for me to ask, so I just make my own ways of transportation."

Her mother glared at her with her dark blue eyes, the same pair of eyes that Phoebe owned, it was almost unnerving, but at the same time it wasn't. Phoebe did not even give a damn, or a double damn, that her parents were trying to reprimand or control her. They had lost that privilege a long time ago, when she had just started Junior High. "Is there a reason why you're glaring at me, Irina?"

Irina opened her mouth to begin her harpy-esque screeching, but Hiroshi held up a hand and Irina clapped her mouth shut but continued to silently glare at her daughter, who was still holding the precious key to her strawberry red Ferrari.

"First of all, Phoebe," Hiroshi began, trying to let her know that he _meant _business. Once again, Phoebe did not even bat a single eyelash. "You will address us without respect as mother, mom, father, or dad. Are we clear?"

He waited for an answer.

There was none.

"I said, _are we clear_?"

"Of course we are _Father _Hiroshi."

Irina hmmphed and Hiroshi rolled his dark eyes upwards. "You can go visit that Pataki girl and that Pataki girl's sister, but you will be back here tomorrow afternoon. We are going to visit your grandmother, she is having a function, and you will be there!"

Phoebe said nothing, but Irina did.

"And we are going to do something about your hair. Mama will be very upset you chopped off all your hair and put it in such a boyishly disgusting cut. She'll wonder what's going on in our home..." Irina rambled own not even caring that neither her husband nor daughter were not listening to her.

Now it was Phoebe's turn to roll her eyes. "Is that all Irina and Hiroshi?"

Both her parents waved her off.

Phoebe snorted and stormed out the house, not even bothered that her parents were back to their normal old ways of ignoring her. _Figures, the only time those workaholic baboons care about me or anything concerning me, is when it deals with appearances at Grandmama's house– stupid rich old hag..._

Phoebe got into the car, and she could feel the oh so familiar pricks behind her eye, she knew exactly what those pricks meant. She was bound to find herself sobbing any moment now, but as long as she did not crumble in front of Helga and Hilda then she was okay with that.

She did not want Helga to know that another part of her foundation was crumbling.

She put the keys in the ignition and revved the engine twice so her mother could hear before she shot off in the direction of the hospital, purposely screeching the tires as she went.

Phoebe could almost swear that she heard a similar screech come from the direction of her house, but she wouldn't swear by it.

**(Y/L)**

All three of them.

Sid D. Gifaldi.

Phoebe G. Heyerdahl.

Helga G. Pataki.

Stayed overnight at the hospital talking to Hilda, who was so full of medicine and painkillers that at times it seemed like she was almost delirious. Once the she finally fell asleep in the wee hours in the morning, the three best friends talked to each other.

Both Phoebe and Sid told Helga what happened with their respective '_families'_, both conveniently leaving out the parts where they both broke down and cried. To which Helga told them to do what their respective families told them to do and of course somehow during the middle of this conversation, Hilda woke up and put her two cents in, telling them both that she was okay and to go and do what they needed to.

Promptly afterwards, she fell right back to sleep.

The three best friends laughed, something none of them had done in a long while.

"See," Helga said as she began to push them both towards the door. "The young one has spoken. You," She looked at Phoebe. "Go to your Grand_mama_'s Grande Function and suffer like you usually do. And you," She now turned her gaze to Sid. "Go home and get some sleep on a comfortable bed, then go out there and crush the Wayside Warriors, but not too much, 'cause you know I still got friends there. Hilda and I will watch it on the TV," She said as she gestured to the TV set up in the corner of the room. "Now, scat!"

Reluctantly, Sid and Phoebe began to leave.

"I said scat! It's okay, I've got money along with all the money in the survival kit, you've brought here today– or rather last night, Pheebs. Just go, we Pataki girls will be waiting here just fine when you two get back! Now, go." Helga threw them a small smile, a smile that was a reminiscent of her old smile, the one that would light up her face and reach her eyes.

Phoebe smiled back and began to pull herself and Sid out the door, "C'mon Sid, I'll give you a ride home. Bye Blondie, see ya in a few hours!"

Sid let himself be pulled away as he yawned. "Bye Helgs, don't forget the pre-game will start at seven on–"

"Channel sixty-four and the game will start at seven thirty, I know. Now bye!"

And with that Phoebe and Sid headed off to their respective homes.

**(Y/L)**

Around eight twenty, while Hilda and Helga were watching the Spartans on the TV, Hilda turned in Helga's direction, keeping her gaze just a little to the right of Helga's head, and asked, "Do you believe in angels?"

Helga shrugged her shoulders lightly. "Hmm, I dunno."

"I do," Hilda said, her gaze still remained unfocused on Helga and on the same spot behind. "I believe they exist."

Helga turned around and saw nothing and no one behind her. "Okay...That's good I guess. Everyone should have something they believe in..."

"You know, everything will be good in the end, right? Everything will be fine okay. And if you every need help call for an angel to guide you, they will always be here to help you. They're really helpful, I promise..." Hilda rambled on not even aware of the look her sister was giving her.

To Helga, with her clammy flushed face, sweaty and oily blonde hair pasted to her face and pillow, unfocused gaze, and her rambling, Hilda seemed just a bit possessed, just a smidgen or two. And being the lovely sister she was, Helga decided to let Hilda know. "You look and sound possessed."

Hilda tried to laugh, but it came out as shallow breaths. "That's funny." Finally her gaze focused on Helga. "I'm hungry."

"Want me to get the nurse to bring you some food?"

Hilda scrunched up her small nose. "That food taste bad."

"Then what do you want?"

"_McKee's_!" Hilda shouted pumping her small fist into the air.

Helga arched one single blonde eyebrow over her blue eyes. "Okay, I guess I'll be sneaking in _McKee's_ in tonight. I'll be right back."

Helga got up from her chair and began to move towards the door, but was stopped when one cold and clammy hand caught hers. She looked over to Hilda, her grasped onto her hand tightly, almost as if she were afraid to let go. "Yes Hilly?"

Hilda cocked her head to the right and looked directly into Helga's eyes, it was a little bit unnerving for the elder Pataki female. "You won't forget what I said, right?"

Helga moved over to Hilda's bed and brushed the blonde strands off her face with her free hand, before she kissed her sister's cool forehead. "How can I forget a speech from my dearest sister when she looks possessed?" With a quick squeeze Helga moved to let go of Hilda's hand, but Hilda was not ready to let go of hers.

"I love Helga Geraldine Pataki."

"I love you too Hilda Gertrude Pataki. Now, if you're really hungry you'll let me go so I can sneak you up some good preservative packed, oil fried, and fattening food."

This time it was Hilda who squeezed Helga's hand and then she simply let go, with a bright smile that climbed all the way up to her light blue eyes. "I'm hungry."

"And I'm going." With that, Helga grabbed her coat and made her way out to the local _McKee's_ that was only two blocks away from the hospital. When she got there, she was surprised to see that there was a long line; she figured most of Crinshaw was at home, or at the game, watching them gain another championship.

Helga almost thought that there were a few complex brained creatures in the town that did not live through the Crinshaw Spartan football team vicariously.

Almost.

Her theory was proven wrong when she realized that there were four TVs set up around the fast food restaurant, all tuned into channel sixty-four, the local TV channel.

_Figures, there is no way to escape... unless you move to another town… in another state… _

When she finally got to the cashier, she ordered Hilda's favorite, a double cheeseburger with fries and a frosty, and ordered herself a cheeseburger.

**(Y/L)**

Helga carefully hid the precious _McKee's_ that her sister all but _demanded_, in her jacket and happily entered the room that was allotted to Hilda, and was shocked at what she found in the anteroom.

There were doctors and nurses all running in and out of Hilda's room, as if they had just cut of their heads and were running around, looking for it. None of them seemed to notice the panicked Helga Pataki standing there in the room with her coat long forgotten on the floor, along with her food.

She turned to the nearest nurse and asked, "What's going on?"

The nurse looked surprise to see her there, "Who are yo–?"

"I'm her family. Now, tell me what the hell is going on?"

The nurse hesitated to respond, but she let her brown eyes flicker to the door that led inside of Hilda's actual room.

Without another word Helga rushed to the door, not paying any heed to the nurse calling after her.

Inside, the room was just how she left, with the TV on, her Survival kit thrown onto the couch, and the shades of the window closed. Except now, there were doctors all around Hilda's bed and now, she couldn't hear the sound a machine steadily beeping, and although the TV set was still on, the room was deathly quiet.

A doctor came towards Helga, but she just began to back away from her, shaking her head slowly. This continued until Helga found herself against a wall in the room, a wall that was directly across from Hilda's bed, and next to the couch."

"Are you Helga Pataki?" The doctor asked slowly, as if she were talking to a small child instead of a teenager.

For a long time Helga just stood against the wall, barely breathing. Finally, she found the remnants of her voice. "Y-yes."

The doctor cleared her throat. "I regret to inform you that Hilda Pataki..."

Helga's mind drowned out the rest of the woman's standardized sentence that she had probably practiced a million other times on the family of other patients. She did not need to hear her to say it, she could already feel it in her heart.

Hilda was dead.

Helga let her body slid to the floor, letting herself cry like she had been everyday for the last eighteen days, but today was different, very different.

She no longer had to put on a brave face and wipe her eyes, no all she had to do was cry herself dry if she wanted.

So that's what she did.

Cry herself dry.

**(Y/L)**

Nope, I still don't own Hey Arnold! I doubt I ever will... Thank you Fallen Angel, Demile, Jaded Angel, Smoking Panda, Bea, Hi, Drucilla Black, Shadow Goddess Akhet, Yzibella, Garlic Blanket, and TrinityKitty for the review that keep me writing. I guess nothing more to say.

PS:

So long Hilda Gertrude Pataki...

Next Chapter: Damaged

The review button demands that you click it...as do I...

S.L. Cipher– The Queen of Eville (No this not a spelling mistake but a higher echelon of evil, look it up in _The New Cipher Dictionary of Cipherous Lexiconography_) who will gladly accept all criticisms, advice, reviews, praises, and flames with a large Cheshire Cat Smile. Why the Cheshire Cat Smile? Why, because Cheshire Cat Smiles will always piss people off and Cipher loves pissing people off because it is exceptional fun... Especially when they try and attack you. Which is exactly why when one wields the Cheshire Cat Smile, it is important that they must also wield a mace and a sword.

('·.̧('·.̧··̧.·'́)̧.·'́)  
«·́̈·The Cipher ·́̈·»  
(̧.·'́(̧.·'́ ̈ '·.̧)'·.̧.)


	16. Damaged

Everyone changes with time. A day, a week, a month, a year... they all count. So how much can a group of rag tag 4th graders from P.S. 118 change with junior high, high school, and a whole bunch of history between those seven years? A whole lot.

**Years Later**

_Damaged_

Phoebe sat at a large dinner table, in a very stiff champagne colored dress, and with her now long black hair– which was there thanks to the hair weaving skills of Fiabio, her mother's hairdresser– settled at her waist. She saw old woman Aria standing with her mother and father, doting them with her presence, and she could feel the old bat's eyes focused on her, but Phoebe not budging. She had become a non-budger and she was sure as hell staying as far away from her grandmother as she could. She floated across the room and settled in a corner by herself, not caring that cousin A from city X, had won a beauty pageant, or that cousin B from city Y, had won a medal in gymnastics, or even about cousin C from city Z, who had a rich boyfriend who was just ready to pop the question and pop a fat diamond onto her ring finger.

No instead, Phoebe was concerned about her family back in Hillwood, about a half an hour drive away from where she was now... she could only wonder how Helga, Hilda, and Sid was doing.

_Hmm... tonight's the championship game... hmm... they'll probably win anyway... another win added to a legacy..._

**(Y/L)**

"Gifaldi, can I count on you out there?"

Sid looked up at the stern face of Coach Grant and nodded back non-enthusiastically, "Yea."

Grant stared down at Sid, hard, as if he were trying to will himself to develop some form of telepathy so he could hear what exactly Sid D. Gifaldi was thinking.

Grant grabbed Sid up from the bench roughly by the collar of his pristine white, black, and red shirt. "Do you have something out there, waiting for you?"

Sid nodded his head and mumbled, "Yea."

"Then I expect you to go out there and play like whatever out there depended on you playing a goddamn madman… Are we clear Gifaldi?"

"Yea."

"I can't hear you!" Grant screamed into Sid's ear.

Sid winced before he shouted back, "Yes, Coach Ghran."

"Good, now get out there!" Grant roughly shoved Sid's helmet into his arms and shoved him towards the football field where he saw Arnold, Gerald, Wolfgang, and Herald all waiting in their own white, black, and red shirts all stained in green and brown marks.

_This one's for you Hilly... this one's for you... _

Strapping on his helmet, he ran out towards his friends, ready to play for what he wanted...

**(Y/L)**

Phoebe had been sitting in the corner for at least a half an hour when the Temptation's Sugar Pie Honey Bunch, started to play, and the sound was coming from her bag. Happily, Phoebe snuck out the room and answered the phone, relieved to actually finally have human contact, even if was over the phone.

"Hey Helgs! How's every–"

"She's gone..."

"Wha–"

"S-she sent me to get food," Helga's voice cracked and she paused for a second. "And w-when I got back, she was, she was gone... Hilda's g-gone."

Phoebe froze in disbelief, letting her cell phone slip out her grasp and simply smash onto the cold cement ground... and even though the phone was on the ground she could hear Helga crying over the phone line... she knew she had to go, but how could she go, if she also crying...

She dropped to the ground by the phone, listening to Helga crying, as she let loose tears of her own, before she could finally tell Helga, she would be right there. She clicked the off button, and ran for the garage, where her mother's Ferrari was parked

**(Y/L)**

"_...And there it is... The score is twenty-seven, twenty- four, with the Cornwell Lions leading. The ball's in the Crinshaw Spartan's possession. Linshaw is looking for a hole, for anyone to be open, there's ten seconds on the clock. Johanssen is blocked– wait a minute Gifaldi is wide open, Linshaw sees it and throws and... Gifaldi catches it in the end zone. The Crinshaw Spartans win the championship! That is another one to be added to the Crinshaw Legacy folks... I'm sure Grant is feeling pretty good right now..."_

Sid felt his teammates pick him off the ground and carry him off the field on their shoulders... it seemed like everything was going to be alright... for once...

_That was for you Hilly..._

About an hour later Sid Kamelia and Kaylia Alba's house, or rather, mansion ready to make a brief appearance at the party before finding a way to get to the hospital. He had just stepped outside Harold's Hummer and was making his way to the door when he saw her.

In the corner near the steps stood one long haired Phoebe G. Heyerdahl wearing a tight champagne colored evening gown. Dark trails of mascara ran from her down her cheeks and her eyes looked pink and irritated and she clutched a pair matching champagne colored shoes in her hands. That was a disturbing sight in itself, but when Kaylia told Phoebe she looked like death, and Phoebe started to tear up, he knew something was definitely wrong.

He ran over to her and tried to hug her, fully knowing well she was cold in her strapless gown, he could see the goose bumps forming goose bumps on her pale skin, but she shrugged him off. "Phoebe, what's wrong?" He asked, but he already knew the answer, he just did not want to acknowledge, he could not acknowledge it.

The corners of Phoebe's mouth turned upwards, in a small and almost pitiful smile, it was disconcerting and sad at the same time. "I was at, I was at the old hags house, when she called, and she said," She paused breathing heavily, "She said, that she, that she..." Then Phoebe just railed off, not even daring to finish the sentence, knowing Sid already knew what the complete sentence was, but that did not mean she wanted to say it. "So I took my mother's car, she tried to stop me, but I just left, and I wanted to go to the hospital, really I did Sid," She looked at him the eyes with her own eye gleamed with newly formed tears. "But I can't... I just can't, I want to be there... for her, but... but I can't... I... I... I hate hospitals... she hates hospitals too... and she's stuck in one... again... I don't think I can go through this again... I was strong enough for the both of us back then... but now, n-now, I-I just don't think I can... So I turned to go to Crinshaw and get you, but then... then I realized that game was already over, and was coming here when... when the car ran out of gas, so I... I...I had to walk a few blocks or so, but I couldn't do them in heels, so I took off my shoes... and then I decided to stand out here." She looked down at the blue cell phone that was clutched in her other hand, only to remember that the screen broke when she dropped the phone. "I don't know how long, I've been out here Sid, but... but, I'm kind of... cold."

Sid reached out to hug her, and this time, she let him. They clung onto in the middle of a cold December night in front of Kamelia and Kaylia Alba's mansion in front of the Golden Ones and their girlfriends, but neither cared. Sid could feel the warms pricks forming in the back of his eyes, it was the all to familiar feeling that had been having for the last two weeks. He was going to break down, but he couldn't right now. Phoebe was already half way to becoming a complete wreck, and neither of them had seen how Helga was, and by now, she probably past the wrecked state and was already to the brink of insanity. Which, of course, was probably not being helped by the fact that she was in same hospital her mother had died in years ago.

Pressing Phoebe tightly to his side, helping her to walk out of the corner, towards the curb of the street. Phoebe had gone silent, that was never a good sign when it came to Phoebe G. Heyerdahl. As long as Phoebe was yelling, stammering, or even crying, a person could tell what was going on in her head, but when she was quiet... all bets were off...

He took a deep breath before he spoke to other Golden One, "I need a ride to the hospital, right now, it's an... an emergency."

There was silence for a whole minute, but there was a whole lot of looked shared during that minute. After those long sixty seconds of mind numbing silence, Kamelia was the one who finally spoke, "Wha? Are you injured or something?"

"No."

"You sure."

"Yes, Kammie, I just need a fucking ride the fucking hospital... if you don't mind."

He saw Arnold throw Gerald a look, a look he had not seen Arnold use since they were in sixth grade, but, it was the same look nonetheless.

After Gerald sent Arnold back a dark glare, he said, "I'll take you."

Kamelia opened her mouth to protest but, Gerald stopped this with a quick peck on her lips, "I'll be right back. Let's go Sid," Sid careful walked to Phoebe to Gerald's car and was placing her in the back seat when he heard Gerald say, "You are coming Arnold." In a tone full of accusations.

Sid slid into the car and closed the door right after he heard Arnold say, "Yeah."

**(Y/L)**

In Hilda's empty room, Phoebe and Sid found Helga, tucked away in a corner of the virtually empty and sterile room, by the wall that was directly across from Hilda's empty bed.

When she heard them come in she did not raise her head to acknowledge them, instead she kept her face rested in her crossed arms, as her arms rested on her raised knees. Barefooted, Phoebe walked across the room and silently sat beside her and tried to coax Helga into talking.

Helga would not budge.

Sid sat on the other side of Helga and began talking to her.

Helga would not budge.

When both teens realized that Helga was not even going to give an inch, they silently enveloped her into their arms, and simply stayed that way.

Both Sid and Phoebe were heedless to the fact that neither Arnold nor Gerald were no longer in the room. They left the room and went to sit in the waiting chair that stood outside in the anteroom, both feeling like voyeurs when as watched Phoebe and Sid try to get the female, who was once thought as the mean bully with no heart, then the social outcast with issues, who was now just Helga, to actually talk

Sid and Phoebe mutely by Helga's side for the rest of the night, gathered in the corner of a pristine white hospital room, ignoring the low buzz of TV as it constantly replayed Sid's amazing game winning catch all through the night.

**(Y/L)**

_Here rests Hilda Gertrude Pataki_

_Sister, daughter, friend._

"_Hope springs eternal in the human breast:_

_Man never is, but always to be, blest_

_The soul, uneasy and confin'd from home,_

_Rests and expatiates in a life to come"_

Helga had chosen the words for Hilda's tombstone, knowing that Hilda would want something short and sweet on it, but, also knowing that she would love her tombstone to say her favorite Alexander Pope quote, a quote that Helga had taught her.

So Helga did both.

But that was all that she could manage to do. Olga Gerlinde Chesterfield had swept into 1421 L Street, Hillwood, New Jersey on the twelfth, immediately dealing with the funeral arrangements. She had all but abandoned both of her sisters years ago, but had to make sure in the public eye that she looked like a grieving elder sister, missing her younger sister, a sister that she never knew.

And look like a grieving elder sister she did, to Helga, it seemed that Olga's new life in the Broadway lights had only seemed to increase her acting skills. The large crocodile tears streamed heavily down her face, fortunately, she was wearing waterproof mascara and smudge proof eyeliner. She sobbed every time Hilda's name was mentioned and even pretended to try and launch herself onto Hilda's snow white coffin.

Over dramatic?

Yes.

Effective?

Triple yes.

The paparazzi was eating the whole thing up, even though, Olga had _demanded_ that they should not be present at the private family event, and then turned right around and _forgot_ to hire the security personnel.

It was December fifteenth, when Hilda Gertrude Pataki was laid to rest in Rosedale Cemetery, on 73rd Street, off of Glendale Drive, right next to her mother, Miriam Hope Reynolds Pataki. The sun was shining brightly in the clear blue sky on the Wednesday afternoon, without even a hint of a cloud in the sky. The sun went even so far as to actually warm the cooled autumn air that surrounded the cemetery.

It was mocking her, Helga knew it was mocking her.

Phoebe and Sid sat by her side throughout the whole process, and she was sure that throughout the whole process, her facial expression had not moved even once, even though Olga's was constantly crumbling and rebuilding itself the whole time. Helga was barely even aware of her surroundings, she was barely thinking. She had cried herself dry and presently had no more tears left to cry, she could not feel her fingers, or her toes, and did not even know how she got to the cemetery.

To put it simply, Helga was numb.

She watched as the snow white casket began its slow descent into the dark barren ground, and knowing whatever speck of salvation or sanity that she had was now gone, and had disappeared with Hilda.

_Damn_, Helga thought vaguely in the back of her mind, as she watched Olga break down in another one of her '_sobbing episodes_', _I need a cigarette._

Everyone had to die someday; Helga just chose her poison more carefully than others.

**(Y/L)**

Nope, I don't own Alexander Pope's quote and I still don't own Hey Arnold! I do own YL, though... Point for me... I know... Thank you Jaded Angel, Demile, Shadow Goddess Akhet, Bleeding in Vein, Drucilla Black, TrinityKitty, Novasenshi, Xdattax, OyoaOverson, Cmaca, Garlic Blanket, Animefrek03,Yzibella, The Moonlite's Shadow, Fire Dolphin, XxXCocoPuffXxX, Twoc, and Gyrlfrend for your wonder reviews, they are the reason why after two months I was finally back to write!

I could you that I couldn't write because I had AP Testing, my SATs, and AHS to work on for the last two months, but I know you wouldn't believe me... so just believe that this chapter does exist... a chapter that is probably littered with so many mistakes that I did not pick, but will clean up asap... Oh, and prepare yourself, 'cause now, things are going to get a lot worse before they can get better.

PS:

_Demile_, Yea, I knew but I wanted Mr. And Mrs. Heyerdahl to have different names and be presented just a smidgen differently and come from different places... well actually I only wanted Mrs. Heyerdahl to come from a different place.

_Jaded Angel_, Where exactly is chapter 17 of Dark Salvation... hmm? You have me in complete suspense.

_OyoaOverson_, Await no more!

_Yzibella_, Why yes, yes I am evil.

_Gyrlfrend_, Here you go... hope you enjoy...

**Next Chapter**: The Breaking Point of Lying

The review button demands that you click it...as do I...So click I say, CLICK!

S.L. Cipher– The Queen of Eville (No this not a spelling mistake but a higher echelon of evil, look it up in _The New Cipher Dictionary of Cipherous Lexiconography_) who will gladly accept all criticisms, advice, reviews, praises, and flames with a large Cheshire Cat Smile. Why the Cheshire Cat Smile? Why, because Cheshire Cat Smiles will always piss people off and Cipher loves pissing people off because it is exceptional fun... Especially when they try and attack you. Which is exactly why when one wields the Cheshire Cat Smile, it is important that they must also wield a mace and a sword.

('·.̧('·.̧··̧.·'́)̧.·'́)  
«·́̈·The Cipher ·́̈·»  
(̧.·'́(̧.·'́ ̈ '·.̧)'·.̧.)


	17. The Breaking Point

Everyone changes with time. A day, a week, a month, a year... they all count. So how much can a group of rag tag 4th graders from P.S. 118 change with junior high, high school, and a whole bunch of history between those seven years? A whole lot.

**Years Later**

_The Breaking Point of Lying_

Helga walked into Mr. Simmons' Language Arts class ten minutes late for the umpteenth time this week. Mr. Simmons said nothing, knowing of Helga's situation thanks to Phoebe and Sid.

Helga took her customary seat in the back right next Phoebe. It was the twenty-second; exactly a week since _her_ funeral and Helga was already wasting away in front of any of the eyes that chose to notice. Many of the tank tops and shirts that she usually wore seemed just a bit more loose than normal, she was now fastening her belt buckle an extra notch tight, and then there was the fact that she simply chose not to go to lunch. But, if anyone chose to stop by the girl's locker room by the math wing on the first floor of Crinshaw High during sixth period lunch, they might catch the faint scent of _Lina Grette's Cigarettes_.

Her eyes had heavy purple bags underneath them, so dark they almost looked like bruises, her lips were so chapped they looked like they were seconds away from bleeding, and her hair was haphazardly put in a loose ponytail with its former pink color fading every slightly with each day, with no sign of Helga even making the conscious decision to dye it again.

She walked through the hallways in a zombie like state, barely conscious to the waking world, or to anything around her, at times it almost seemed that she had been invisible in her own skin.

Both Phoebe and Sid were messes, both looked extremely tired, barely ate, and barely spoke, but it was nothing compared to Helga's.

She was a mess.

A complete and total mess.

**(Y/L)**

Christmas vacation had finally come and most students were happy to be getting away from school for a few weeks of reprieve, however, Helga feared what those few weeks would bring while she was home, at least the place she referred to as _home_. For the last few weeks she had stuck to wandering the streets at night, not willing to go back to a place that seemed to be haunted with memories... unless she needed to shower. _Sal's_ looked much better to her at night. She could hide in a dark corner and no one would ask or even bother wonder why she had smudged mascara and eyeliner on her face, they simply ignored her, something that she needed and wanted at this moment in time.

Everyone from her neighbor to her neighbor's cousin's dog's sister seemed to want to know how she doing, how she was holding up, how she was feeling.

And the most obvious answer would be, she felt like hell, she felt like crap, and she didn't know why she was still human existence.

But they were ignoring the obvious.

She pulled out a cigarette and lit it with her Pink Panther Zippo. She sat in the darkness of Sal's from the time she cut gym, her last period class, to about eight p.m. when Sal told Helga she should head out before the rowdy Friday night crowd came through. Helga gave the older man a small thanks and picked up herself and left the bar.

Outside it was a cold night, even though it was autumn, it felt like winter... but then again, winter did begin tomorrow, but Helga felt nothing. She walked the streets of Wayside with only her black tank top, black pants, and black combat boots to protect her from the cold that winter was bringing. Fortunately or maybe unfortunately, even in the cold dead of night, she felt nothing.

She forsaken the bus, instead chose to walk all the miles home from Wayside to her house in Hillwood, it was about an hour to an hour and a half walk, but she didn't mind... in fact, it helped to distract her busy mind, she counted all of the five hundred and ninety-six cars that passed her as she made her way..._home_.

It was about nine o'clock when she reached her house.

It was nine-ten when she finally gathered herself enough composure to enter the house.

The house was dark, with the exception of kitchen and the living that was being illuminated by the telltale signs of a televisions blue light. Helga knew Bob and Lexie were probably enjoying their Friday evening by being couch potatoes sitting in the living room, drinking beer and smoking her cigarettes. She didn't really give a double damn what they did as long it did not involve her in any way shape or form, so she made her way upstairs, prepared to go to take a shower before heading out to the streets once again. She was walking down the hallway when she noticed that Hilda's room was unlocked and the door was left slightly ajar...

_Hmmm, I guess I forgot to lock it this morning..._

Helga opened the door, ready to look on the room that had left the same since _she_ was in the accident, because she didn't have time to clean it up, and afterwards, she left _her_ room the same because she didn't have the strength to clean it up. Every morning, almost like a religious ritual, Helga unlocked the door to _her_ room, and stood in the doorway looking at the unmade bed, old clothes strewn across the floor, the stuff animals sitting in a corner, and the print of "Starry Night" covering the chipped pink wall by her bed, but when Helga opened the door this time... everything was wrong...

...Everything was gone.

The room was completely empty, devoid of any life, the chipped ceiling glared at her from across the room... Helga no idea what was going on, immediately, without a second thought, she ran down the stairs and ran into the living. There on the living room couch, sat Bob with Lexie, who was draping herself over the man that was old enough to be her father.

"Where is _her _stuff." Helga demanded, she was speaking calmly; she had not begun to yell, yet.

Both ignored her.

She tried again, "Where the hell is _her _stuff!"

Once again she was ignored.

Helga placed herself directly in front of the television screen and tried once more, "Where the fucking hell is my sister's stuff!"

Now she had their attention.

Lexie glared at her with her dark eye narrowed. "What do you want?"

Now it was Helga's turn to glare back, "Where is my sister's stuff, you two bit whore?"

Lexie lifted herself off of Bob, who was merely ignoring both female diligently, and sat up from the couch to _inspect_ her finger nails.

"Oh, you mean that little _brat _that died off last week or something," She raised an eyebrow before continuing, not wanting to let Helga to get a word edgewise. "Well, I so happened to find the spare key to her room today and decided to sell everything off, you know, and got about two hundred bucks. You know, I had to do it, because," She paused and smiled at Helga with her dark cherry red lips. "I'm a _'two bit whore_'. Plus you should be happy, I did you a favor... didn't your _mother _teach you any manners? _Hmm_?"

Helga didn't know where to begin.

Something in her mind just simply snapped and slowly...

Ever so slowly her numbed mind began to thaw and...

It only had one word to say...

_Kill_.

And before she knew it, Helga had flown across the room in two giant steps and attacked Lexie. Something kept telling her to keep going, something inside of her wanted to see her bleed, bleed from every inch, every pore, and every damn part of her body. Lexie scratched at Helga, throwing in few punches here and there, but in reality, she had no chance of beating Helga. Sure she was probably eating more than Helga, was healthier than Helga was these days, taller than Helga, but, she was not fueled by total unadulterated rage.

Somehow Bob managed to throw the teen off of his girlfriend, and he was yelling at her, but Helga heard nothing, nothing at all, all she heard was the voice calling her, telling her that she was not finished. She lunged for Lexie but, Bob pushed her away and was still yelling, she tried once again, but Bob kept her away. Meanwhile, Lexie sat stiffly on the couch with a blood splattered onto her face, maybe it was her bloody nose that Helga had definitely broken, or maybe, it was her bloody lip that Helga punched and knocked out a few teeth, and there were places Helga knew would become large bruises in just a matter of hours. Tears were streaming down her face and she watched Helga like a hawk from her prone position, her dark eyes spoke to Helga, she knew exactly what the older woman was feeling.

She was scared.

She was scared of Helga.

But Helga was disappointed at her handy work, she was sure that she should have at least cracked opened her skull... at least, just a little bit.

Helga knew she had to leave; she just couldn't stay there anymore.

She ran up to her room and hazardously began to throw things in her dark pink duffle bag, some CDs, some clothes, her passport, her toothbrush, her CD player, her laptop, a book, and she even picked up Pink Chocolate, she did not plan on coming back. She began to gather the money she had hidden in a broken pipe in the bathroom, the broken radiator, a crack covered by a dying plant, the empty box of frozen liver and onions in the freezer, and the empty box of candles. She even took her spare cigarettes out from the kitchen draw.

Somehow, just when Helga began to head for the front door, the sound of blood stopped rushing into her ears stopped... she could hear again, and what she heard was Bob yelling at her.

He actually had the audacity to yell at her...

...So... she yelled back, "Shut the hell up!"

"You get the hell out of my house!"

Helga grabbed the doorknob and violently opened the front door, "_Your _house? _Your _fucking house? You are a delusional, fucked up, no good, lazy, couch potato, dirty, sickening, failure of a bastard... keep your goddamn house, let's see how long you can live here without taking care of a good chunk of the expenses you moronic ass! I'll gladly get out of _your _house!"

With that said she left the house and slammed the door shut. She had just ran down the steps when she heard Bob open the door to yell back at her, "I'm glad you will never be coming back to _my house_... good ridding to bad rubbish!"

Helga turned around and pinned the older man with a glare from her blue eyes and said the only two words he deserved to hear from her, "Fuck you!" And with that she left the house, letting her feet guide her wherever they wanted to take her.

After ten minutes of walking, Helga's feet led her to 73rd Street, off of Glendale Drive, the Rosedale Cemetery. Helga checked her Pink Panther watch, the one that Hilda had given to her last Christmas, and the Pink Panther's told her with his arms outstretch to gold painted numbers that it was only nine thirty. Without a second thought she entered the cemetery and walked the familiar path to where her mother was now resting, with her youngest daughter resting right next to her. Her first stop was to Miriam Hope Reynolds Pataki's grave, she hadn't visited her for over two months, something she had never done. She used to visit her at least once every other week, but since school had started, things had just simply been a huge mess. She wanted to talk to Hilda, but she couldn't, she just couldn't... maybe in her mind she wasn't prepared to accept what in happened, maybe she just wasn't in the right frame of mind, or maybe it was just a maybe. Whatever reason it was, she could not sit down and have a talk to Hilda yet... not yet...

Throwing down her duffel bag on the grass, she sat herself next to her mother's grave. "I miss you, you know... Bliss would say that I never really got full closure even after what six... seven... hmmm... maybe even eight years... I can't tell anymore, time passes by so quickly... I think Peit Hein once said, _There is a lifetime in a second_... I don't think he knows how right he was... or maybe he does... Is there a heaven? Is there a hell? If there is a heaven, what's it like up there? Do you have daily chats with Mr. Thoreau about his transcendentalist ideas? Ask him if he ever found his Walden? And does Whitman still sing a song for himself? How about Elizabeth Tudor, do you see her? Tell I said _hi, _if you do, tell her I find her inspirational... a bit crazy... but inspirational... Tell Jimmy that I will absolute kiss the ground he walks on... if as a spirit or whatever, he can walk... Tell Willy I have a bone to pick with his Romeo and Juliet, but that it is a masterpiece anyway... even if rip offs of his story seem to be popping out of everywhere these days... ask him if that pisses him off? Tell Dali he is amazing and tell Gogh he is even more amazing... Ask Joan if she really did hear saints or if she had a bit too much lotus one afternoon... and... and... there is so much I want to say and so much I want to ask, but, but... but I don't know how."

Helga paused for a moment and turned around to take a glimpse at Hilda's grave. "Mom... how is she? Is she okay? Is she adjusting well? Has she talked to Alexander Pope yet? What is she doing?... I dunno... I just don't know."

Helga paused for a moment looking around at the darkened sky and the equally dark cemetery, when she was younger, she probably would have been scared, but not now, she was cold.

Not on the outside, but on the inside.

"Mom, help me... I really need it...I think I preparing myself for that special kind of fall... The kind where I just can't let myself hear or feel myself hit the bottom... I just keep on falling and falling and falling, like I'm in a bottomless pit...hmm... who was it that said that again... I never can remem–"

"Mr. Antolini, chapter twenty four, Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger."

Helga quickly turned around to see who was it that spoke to her, and there stood a rather short woman, with a familiar football shaped head, droopy light blue eyes, and long dark brown hair holding a bouquet of casablancas.

"Hello," She said slowly, as if she were talking to a rather dangerous animal... and maybe she was. "I couldn't help but hear you when you were paraphrasing Salinger... he's one of my favorite authors."

Helga gave the older woman a feigned smile. "Mine too." She turned around to look at her mother's grave once again, hoping that was the end of the conversation. Then, she felt something warm being draped on her shoulders... she didn't even remember she was actually physically cold...

She turned around once again and saw that the woman had taken off her bright blue pea coat and rested in on her shoulder. "You looked cold." Was all that she said when she saw Helga gave her a questioning look. "Well, it was nice meeting... I'm just going to go visit my father and mother now, have a good evening." With a small smile, the small woman moved to go about her way, but Helga stopped her, not physically, but verbally.

"I'm visiting my mother, too."

"Really?"

Helga stood up and turned around to face the woman, "Yea, I haven't spoken to her in a while."

"I haven't spoken to mine much either," She held out her pale hand. "My name is Stella."

Helga shook Stella's hand, "My name is Helga."

"Ahh... you're of German descent aren't you?"

Helga couldn't help but smile at the expression on Stella's face; it seemed almost childlike, "Yes."

Stella let out a soft laugh, "Sorry, it's just that I have this habit of just collecting random information... my mother found it annoying... fortunately Miles, my husband, adores it..."

Then there was silence.

At least there was until she saw that Stella was actually shivering in the cold, quickly, Helga shrugged the coat off her shoulders and tried to hand it back to her, but Stella refused. "I think you need it more than I do, when I first saw you, you looked like if your body shook any harder you might suffer from some form whiplash."

Helga hadn't noticed that she had been shivering, but, if Stella had said it, she was probably right... Helga didn't know much of was going on.

"Thanks." Helga said as she held the jacket in her hands, not quite sure what to do with it.

"No problem." Stella moved past Helga and placed a flower onto Miriam's grave without a word and when she found Helga giving her a questioning look once again, she said, "I know that Salinger once said why would any want flowers placed over there stomach when they're dead, but I can't help but think that they would appreciate it..."

She sounded so much like Hilda... at least like how Hilda would have sounded, if she had, had the chance to grow up.

And that was when Helga lost it.

She broke down in tears in the middle of a cemetery at nine forty something at night, in front of a woman she had only heard of and seen in passing. She was sitting on the ground and crying when she felt Stella kneel down next to her and pat her maternally on her back. "I'm just going to make a wild guess here and say that your mother's death isn't the only thing bothering you, huh?"

Helga nodded her head in confirmation.

Stella said nothing, instead, let the teenage female finish crying and let Helga find the right words to say, even though they probably not the most eloquent words had ever used in a sentence.

"Just last week... or maybe... maybe it was the week before, she died..." Helga trailed off.

"Who?" Stella pressed on gently.

Helga pointed Hilda's grave and knew that once Stella read it she would make the connection.

"Hilda?"

Helga nodded her head once again.

"Was she your cousin?"

"No... she is... I mean, she was my... baby sister."

Stella rested a steady hand on Helga's shoulder and squeezed it, giving Helga some form of warmth. "I know what it's like to lose family members when you're young and," She paused for a moment and Helga steeled herself for the usual_ 'I'm sorry for your loss.'_, or one of its variants.

It never came.

"I know what it's like to have everyone around you walking on eggshells around you and spewing out apologizes all the time, even though many of them are sincere." She squeezed Helga's shoulder once again, giving more warmth to the younger female. "So I'm going to say what Mrs. Livingstein said to me when she found me in a cemetery. Never forget the bad times, cherish the good times, and remember, that matter what, they will always love as much as you love them... I've never gotten better advice than that from anyone... especially when my mother passed away when I was twelve... and then my father passed away when I was sixteen, Mrs. Livingstein's words have always stayed with me... I hope the will stay with you too, Helga."

For the first time in a while, Helga felt like she almost a human... almost, but not quite, human...

Stella helped her to stand up from the ground and gathered her duffle bag, "I know a place called _Cocoa Café_, it's just around the block, it's warm, and it serves triple chocolate chunk hot chocolate with a large triple chocolate chunk cookie that's about the size of my head... and that's pretty big. Wanna go?"

Helga nodded yes, not too sure if she could trust her voice anymore.

_Cocoa Café_... that was one of her and Hilda's favorite places... they had especially liked the hot chocolate and the cookie... the prospect should have hurt... but somehow with Stella leading the way, the path seemed a bit more comforting... _almost_.

**(Y/L)**

It was about ten thirty when Helga and Stella parted ways, Stella, of course, gave Helga her number if she ever needed somebody to talk to and Helga took it, folded it, and placed it in the back pocket of her jeans. She now had on Stella's bright blue pea coat, Stella vehemently refused to take it back, she went so far as to tricking Helga into holding when she drove off in her blue Honda Civic.

Stella was an understanding person, with an upbeat personality, and an I.Q. that probably surpassed Phoebe's easily.

She picked up random information, liked to know random facts, knew enough random literary quotes to confuse Helga, and seemed to thoroughly enjoy her job as a daycare teacher rather than her adventurous life as botanist and doctor traveling to remote parts of the world... and best part of it all... she had made Helga feel as if she were whole for the little less than an hour they had spent at the café.

It was liberating for Helga.

But, once again, Helga found herself wandering the streets of Hillwood, now needing to go rent out a hotel room to spend the rest of her Christmas break, possibly, the rest of her junior year in... she didn't want to be a burden to Sid or Phoebe. She knew she had burdened her friends enough to last them both at least a decade... they needed their rest.

Helga searched her pockets to find her cellphone so she could find the nearest motel, when, she realized, that in her haste to leave 1422 L Street, she had probably left her cellphone and its charger on her bed stand. She had no choice but to go back and get them. If she was lucky enough, Lexie and Bob were either not there or had gotten drunk and passed. She was ready to start the long trek home, when she realized that she was only a block away from 1422 L Street.

It seemed to her that her feet knew exactly what was going on, even before her brain did.

When she got there, the house seemed to be in complete darkness, which was a good sign for Helga, but when she tried to use her key in the front door, the door wouldn't open, so she tried the back door.

Same results.

That was when Helga realized that the door locks had already been changed, it had seemed that both Lexie and Bob were just waiting to do this to her for a long time, and were well prepared. It was too bad that neither of the two knew that the bathroom window on the first floor could be easily opened from the outside with just a few quick movements.

Helga stepped out of the dark bathroom and quietly made her way to her room, just in case someone was in the house, and found her cellphone and its charger just where she thought she had left it, on her bed stand. She crept down the staircase, careful to avoid the creaky right side of the last step. She moved through the darkness towards the door, and passed by the living room, out of the corner of her eye she saw neither Bob nor Lexie were there. She went to the master bedroom and heard no signs of life, they weren't in the basement, or the kitchen, they were no where to be found in the house.

_I guess they left to go get drunk and pass out at a local bar... or maybe they went to the hospital_, Helga found herself smiling at her latter thought with a self-satisfied grin.

She was grinning for a while in the middle of the dark house before she sank down onto the floor and began to cry... why?

Who knows.

She hadn't had an emotional overload for a while; she was allowed to cry for no reason...right?

Right.

As Helga sat in the dark, she began to realize how abandoned the house had looked, cracked and broken walls all over the place, pipes needing fixing, wall paper needing to be replace, cracks in the tiles large enough to fit marbles in it, cobwebs were spiders set up their homes... the house was just simply a mess, just like her.

Even during the days back she was in fourth grade, and Miriam was still inept, the house never this bad. Olga never let the house look bad, especially when she had a possible prospect coming over. Maybe it was just her... over the years she had less and less time to clean... and then there was the fact that Lexie and Bob left messes all of the house and never bothered to clean up after themselves... she could make out the delivery pizza box from three weeks ago still sitting in the corner it had landed in when Helga had thrown it at Lexie's head. Helga usually tried to live in their own pigsty until they got sick of it and cleaned up for themselves, but unfortunately, Helga was a bit neurotic about cleaning– thanks to her mother's nesting faze during her pregnancy.

In other words, Helga usually wound up cleaning up after them, anyways.

_This house has gone to waste; it was no longer really needed anyways._

Helga flipped opened her Pink Panther zippo and watched the orange flame dance in front of her blue eyes.

_It holds too many bad memories... too many good ones too._

Helga closed the lighter and watched as the mini flame disappeared.

_It should disappear... I wish it could all disappear..._

Helga opened the lighter again and the flame danced once again, but it seemed to have vigor this tome, as if was trying to her attention... and that's when Helga knew what she had to do.

Quickly closing the lighter she ran down the stair to retrieve the petroleum from the basement and then, she caught a glimpse of it.

Lexie's bright cherry red Lexus parked in front of the 1421 L Street.

Now, Helga knew exactly what she had to do.

Helga broke into the car, putting the skills she had learned during junior high to good use.

_Maybe, I'm crazy..._

She dosed the seats of the car in petroleum.

_But I don't care..._

Then she went in the house and grabbed an armful of Bob and Lexie clothes and threw them into the car, and dosed them in petroleum.

_Maybe something in my brain is broken..._

She took up a hundred dollar bill she had found in Lexie's wallet, and using her infamous Pink Panther zippo, she lit fire to the bill.

_But I don't care..._

And using the bill she lit the single _Lina Grette's _cigarette that she had clamped in her mouth. She took a giant puff of the cigarette that she had found in Lexie's pocket book.

_I feel alive... and that's all that counts... I feel alive... and that's all that counts..._

Helga inspected the burning Benjamin with a smile and then...

**(Y/L)**

Nope, I still don't own Hey Arnold! I do own YL, though... Point for me... I know... Thank you Cmaca, Justin T. Melanson, King Cheetah, Fallen-Angel, Drucilla Black, Jaded Angel, Shadow Goddess Akhet, Demile, Novasenshi, and Garlic Blanket for all of your reviews... without y'all, YL would probably still be on chapter fifteen.

I know what you are all thinking... she updated under a week... I know... all of ye gasp! And I know, I did a longer chapter than usual. Think of this as a treat for putting up with my extra long absences.

PS:

_Demile_, _Phoebe sat at a large dinner table in a very stiff champagne colored dress and her now long black hair– which was there thanks to the_ hair weaving skills of Fiabio_, her mother's hairdresser– _now settled around her waist. Fiabio gave Phoebe a weave, which is why her hair is long and I never actually mentioned when Phoebe cut her hair because I never actually wrote in dates until around Sid's birthday, and from then, I've used dates. The State Championship for High School football in New Jersey was played December 11th, I don't know why, but that's what the internet told me, and like Timmy Turner, I get everything from the internet... and early December is still autumn, it becomes Winter on the 23rd of December. I hope I cleared up the problems for ya... hope to see ya next chapter!

_Justin T. Melanson_, Yay you're back! And I'm shocked that your physic abilities didn't tell you what was going to happen, I'm not too sure whether to be happy or scared...

_Jaded Angel_, I hope everything is alright and pans out on your end...

Next Chapter: _What It Is To Burn_

The review button demands that you click it...as do I...So click I say, CLICK!

S.L. Cipher– The Queen of Eville (No this not a spelling mistake but a higher echelon of evil, look it up in _The New Cipher Dictionary of Cipherous Lexiconography_) who will gladly accept all criticisms, advice, reviews, praises, and flames with a large Cheshire Cat Smile. Why the Cheshire Cat Smile? Why, because Cheshire Cat Smiles will always piss people off and Cipher loves pissing people off because it is exceptional fun... Especially when they try and attack you. Which is exactly why when one wields the Cheshire Cat Smile, it is important that they must also wield a mace and a sword.

('·.̧('·.̧··̧.·'́)̧.·'́)  
«·́̈·The Cipher ·́̈·»  
(̧.·'́(̧.·'́ ̈ '·.̧)'·.̧.)


	18. What it is to Burn

Everyone changes with time. A day, a week, a month, a year... they all count. So how much can a group of rag tag 4th graders from P.S. 118 change with junior high, high school, and a whole bunch of history between those seven years? A whole lot.

**Years Later**

_What It Is To Burn_

It was nearing the stroke of midnight on December 23rd, when the doorbell of Mrs. Peterson's house on 1585 F Street doorbell rang.

Once.

Then twice.

Then there was silence, complete silence.

The old woman, seventy-two in exactly a month, was not suspicious of a doorbell ringing late at night. People were always coming to her house in the middle of the night, she wasn't sure why, but she was always welcoming to them. Especially one little girl– or rather young woman– she had a tendency to ring Joan Maras Peterson's door a lot, well at least she used in the past, but these days Mrs. Peterson had not seen heads or tails of the young woman... but then again the young woman was probably busy in high school.

At any rate the old woman skillfully walked down her steps, careful to avoid the creaky third step from the bottom, not wanting to alert the person waiting outside that she was actually coming to the door. She let one grey eye peek through the pep hole and even though the person had shoved their luxurious blonde hair underneath a beanie hat with two duffle bags in hand along with a few guitar cases on their back, she could tell it was a familiar visitor standing out on her front porch.

Mrs. Peterson opened the door and smiled, "Hello Helga."

Helga flashed Mrs. Peterson a quick smile, "Hi Ms. P, sorry to bother you, but, I was just hoping that you could call the fire department for me."

Mrs. Peterson raised a salt and pepper colored eyebrow, "Exactly why would I do you need me to call the fire department?"

Helga's smile surprisingly got wider and she pointed in the direction of 1421 L Street, "I do believe Mr. Bob Pataki's house is on fire."

Mrs. Peterson stepped outside of her house in only her purple nightgown to see the telltale signs of grayish-white smoke rising into the almost black night. Moments later, when she finally snapped out her daze to talk to the young woman, but Helga was gone. She had simply disappeared into the night, two duffle bags, guitars, and all.

**(Y/L)**

It was six o'clock in the morning when Phoebe Gin Heyerdahl woke in her king sized bed.

It was six forty-five before Phoebe Gin Heyerdahl actually got out of her bed.

It was seven o'clock when Phoebe Gin Heyerdahl walked to the kitchen, not surprised to find that the house was empty, again, and fixed herself some delicious– and not to mention filling– breakfast of a large bowl of Coco Puffs being drowned in a large amount of milk.

It was seven o'five when the door bell and when Phoebe Gin Heyerdahl walked to the door in pajamas and breakfast in hand to greet the Hillwood Policemen that were standing outside of the front door.

It was seven o'nine when Phoebe Gin Heyerdahl dropped her breakfast bowl onto the cement that was her front step... and it was seven twenty when Phoebe Gin Heyerdahl found herself running down the main street in front of her house in "rich" Hillwood, also known as Upper Hillwood, towards 781 St. Narke Avenue, the home of Lila Narcisa Sawyer.

By the time reached the front door of 781 St. Narke Avenue, Phoebe was so out of breath, it wasn't even funny, she almost thought she going to die of a hernia of some sort. She rang the doorbell once, and once only. As she waited outside trying to grasp hold of any air she could, she thought back to the days in 7th and 8th grade where she run ten blocks like that without even a hitch of her breath, back before she realized that there was no point being on the track team.

_But, everything changes with time, _Phoebe thought to herself as she caught a glimpse of herself and her thinning and disheveled figure in the glass of the storm door, _and I'm a standing testament of this... _

A butler opened the door and took a cursory glance of Phoebe standing outside in the cold wearing only a pair of red female smiley face boxers, a red shirt that said,_ "Made in the 80s"_, a pair of sneakers, and the blue flip phone clenched tightly in her hand, before his nose seemed to descend even higher in the air.

The man opened his mouth to speak, but Phoebe, who decided that she didn't have the time to put up with his crap, cut him off before he could say a word, "Look I don't really need to hear, nor do I really want to deal with any of the snotty comments that are just about ready to spew out of that insalubrious and elitist mouth of yours. I'm here to see my friend Sid Gifaldi, who, before you even dare to say it, he is definitely here for Sawyer's Christmas party. Now do both of us a favor and get him for me, or else I'll be forced to barge into this house, and trust me when I say I know what you're thinking and the answer is no, the police won't get here in time."

The butler threw a glare at the younger woman, before it withered under the heat of the glare she was sending his way.

Clearing his throat he said, "Of course, madam." With a deep and exaggerated sniff he turned around and walked to the living room where Sid Delano Gifaldi sat with Wolfgang, Arnold, Lila, Gerald, Kamellia, Kaylia, Sheena, Harold, and Rhonda. Every once and a while Sid actually zoned in to catch a sliver of the conversation that his friends were having before zoning out... he just felt so tired. It didn't make any sense though, he had gotten almost nine hours of sleep last night, but he still felt so tired.

Alfred cleared his throat and told Sid that_ "a very crazed young woman was waiting for him outside on the porch,"_ before he turned around and walked– or rather ran– off to the kitchen and the kitchen phone, just in case.

Sid did not need to even bothering who was at the door, only Phoebe Gin Heyerdahl could cause that type of reaction and be standing outside, waiting for him to come to the front door. Helga, on the other hand, would have pissed Alfred off and had him bring her to Sid with even batting an eye. When Sid got to front door, he found himself shocked at Phoebe's outfit she chose to wear on a cold winter's day, and forcefully dragged her into the warm house, before closing the front door. Now they were both in sight of the other Golden Ones, the Golden Ones' Girlfriends, and the Golden Ones' Girlfriends' Lackeys.

"Why exactly are you wearing your pajamas?" Sid asked, knowing Phoebe's choice attire from the slumber parties that they, being Helga, Phoebe, Hilda, and himself, used to hold almost everyday last year in tenth grade.

"I had no time, I had to find you immediately, choice of clothing for a brisk winter early morning run was only the third thought on my mind–"

"Your first and second being?"

"I was getting there Sid,"

She had said his name, just his name, not a nickname, just his name... she hadn't even had a playful tone that was usually heard whenever she called one her friend's name.

It was flat, simply flat.

"What's wrong?" That's probably what Helga and Phoebe loved, and sometimes hated, the most about Sid he knew what was wrong with a person, even before they knew what was wrong. He had this uncanny way of reading a person, and when he found out what was wrong, he never let person go through anything alone. That was made him a best friend to both Phoebe and Helga... and sometimes their best enemy.

Phoebe's dark blue eyes wandered to the front door's golden handles. "Helga's house burned down."

Sid shook his head in disbelief, "Did she... is she...?"

Phoebe understood what Sid was thinking, she would be thinking the same thing too, if it hadn't been for the fact that she survived eighth grade as Helga G. Pataki's best friend. "No, she fine... except... she... she... she was the one who started the fire, that burned down the house... along with Lexie-Heifer's car...and now the police can't find her and neither can I."

Sid stood in front of Phoebe, not sure whether to laugh, cry, or alternate between the two every ten seconds or so he chose to pick choice e, none of the above, and say, "Wha?"

"Basically she's an arsonist on the proverbial lamb."

"I–" Sid paused finally take a big long look at Phoebe's calm face and realized something didn't quite match. Phoebe actually being _calm _during something like this was just un-Phoebish to Sid, un-Phoebish and wrong, just _wrong_. "How the hell are you so calm?"

Phoebe's shoulder's deflated, her eye dropped, and she looked like she hadn't gotten any sleep in months, she looked tired, very, very tired. "Remember back when Helga beat the tar living snot out of Sawyer, and Ian came, and Helga made a comment about jail, and then Ian made a comment about her spending time in jail again, he wasn't joking... eighth grade was hard Sid, indescribably hard and very different."

Sid wanted to ask more, he wanted to know, after being best friends with Helga and Phoebe for so long, he had heard snippets of the infamous junior high school days, but never enough to understand why both Helga and Phoebe got very quiet when seventh grade, eighth grade, or junior high were mentioned. But, something about the way Phoebe looked so frail and uncomfortable in her own skin, even squirming underneath his imploring gaze told him that it just wasn't the time... and maybe, just maybe, it was the fact that she looked as tired as he felt, the type of tired that just didn't go away with a few extra hours of sleep.

"Let's go to your house. We need sleep." With that he turned around and headed for the staircase. "I'm going to get my stuff, I'll be right back."

He ran upstairs into the guest room that official became known as his room whenever he slept over at Lila's house, like now when he suppose to spend three days in the Sawyer Household for Lila's Annual Christmas Sleep-Over, right before Lila's Annual Christmas Bash.

Meanwhile, a certain red head was ready to kill, so the second Golden One's Girlfriend in charge took over, "So exactly why are you here Hereydahl?" Kamelia asked.

Maybe Phoebe was insane, but she was in the mood for seriously screwing with somebody else's head. A nice slow and enjoyable screw...

_Maybe_, she thought to herself as she let her dark blue eyes slowly wander to Kamelia's dark eyes,_ this is how Helga felt when she burnt the house down, maybe she felt insane... and ready to screw someone over..._

"It's Heyerdahl, Alba , and I'm here for Sid." Phoebe said nothing else, but she did sit down next to Sid in a love seat that was abandoned; now all she had to do was wait.

And wait she did... for about five seconds...

When Phoebe's phone rang, the living was filled with the sounds of the hook of _She's a Bitch_, and without a even a second hesitation, she answered.

"So Blondie what are you planning on doing?"

"What no _hello _Vega?"

"Forst tell me where you are, then I'll say hello."

"You sound a bit edgy Blue Brat, why?"

"I dunno, you tell me Pink Punster. What were you thinking...?"

"It had to go."

"They came to my house looking for you Helgs."

_Sigh_. "I know Pheebs."

"They're probably tapping your cell phone."

"I know," She sighed again. "Which is exactly why I'm coming back. Where are you?"

"In hell."

"Really? Is it as hot as they say it is?"

"Nope, just cold. I'm with Sid."

"So that means you're at the bint's house, huh?"

"Uh-huh."

A short laugh. "So I guess you're really in hell. I'll be at your house in half an hour, you know who to call."

"I hated eighth grade you know."

_Sigh_. "Yea I know."

"So why are we repeating it?"

"Because, _those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat_ _it."_

"George Shaw?"

"No George Santayana. Shaw said, _we learn from history that we learn nothing from history_."

"Hmm, I guess they already know how right they were..."

_Sigh_. "Yea, I guess so."

"In half an hour right?"

_Sigh_. "Yea."

**(Y/L)**

Sorry, but I still don't own Hey Arnold! I do own YL. But I do own the idea and concepts of YL, oh, and anything you recognize, is probably not mine. Because I've actually hit **200 REVIEWS** because you are all the **BEST REVIEWERS IN THE WORLD**, I'm going to do something that has never been tried before in Cipered history... I'm going to thank basically everyone who hit up my chapter reviews from 51405... I'm crazy, I know. Thank You Garlic Blanket, King Cheetah, Justin T. Melanson, Shadow Goddess Akhet, Demile, ShanniC, Jaded Angel, Gyrlfrend, OyoaOverson, Tai Nite, Moonlite Shadow, Alaska, Rebellion Theif Seeiko, BellaMay76 (TIMES 7!), and Yzibella, who gave me my **200th REVIEW**! Without you I am nothing. I promise the next chapter will be extra long! Hopefully that chapter will be out by the 23rd because I'm leaving for Europe (With a sprained ankle!) the 25th and having una fiesta en Europa the 25th. This chapter was a warm, because I had writer's unblock– in which the writer has many ideas but does not know how to write them down and communicate them properly, look it up in _The New Cipher Dictionary of Cipherous Lexiconography_, trust I'm sure it's there. At any rate, the next chapter will be much stronger than this one and up to my usual par...

PS:

_Justin T. Melanson_, if you need a hug or need me to _accidently _set someone's house on fire just let me know, okay.

_Jaded Angel_, hope your writer's block gets unblocked, but unblocked to the extent was... and I hope all is well on your end of the world...

_Grylfrend_, I hope I did good on them too... Standardized Test are EVILLE!

_OyoaOverson_, I might be too late for this, but, GOOD LUCK!

_Rebellion Theif Seeiko _and _Alaska_, hello there new comers.

_BellaMay76_, I'm glad that you're back.

Yzibella, Congrats! You have just given Cipher her 200th review... Johnny, tell Yzibella what she's won...

Johnny: She gets to ask Cipher one question about YL, a question about ANYTHING, and the Cipher will answer truthfully and maybe give a full explanation! Just ask your question in your review and I'll drop off the answer in your e-mail box... just keep my answer a secret.

Am I crazy enough to let someone peak into my head... maybe. But I can do that, because I'm me!

**Next Chapter**: _Penumbra_

The review button demands that you click it...as do I...So click I say, CLICK!

S.L. Cipher– The Queen of Eville (No this not a spelling mistake but a higher echelon of evil, look it up in _The New Cipher Dictionary of Cipherous Lexiconography_) who will gladly accept all criticisms, advice, reviews, praises, and flames with a large Cheshire Cat Smile. Why the Cheshire Cat Smile? Why, because Cheshire Cat Smiles will always piss people off and Cipher loves pissing people off because it is exceptional fun... Especially when they try and attack you. Which is exactly why when one wields the Cheshire Cat Smile, it is important that they must also wield a mace and a sword.

('·.̧('·.̧··̧.·'́)̧.·'́)  
«·́̈·The Cipher ·́̈·»  
(̧.·'́(̧.·'́ ̈ '·.̧)'·.̧.)


	19. Penumbra

Everyone changes with time. A day, a week, a month, a year... they all count. So how much can a group of rag tag 4th graders from P.S. 118 change with junior high, high school, and a whole bunch of history between those seven years? A whole lot.

**Years Later**

_Penumbra_

As soon as Phoebe closed her blue flip phone she was ready to fly out the door. Sid came down the stairs during her brief conversation with Helga and raised an eyebrow, and Phoebe answered the unspoken question, "My house." With that Sid and Phoebe left 781 St. Narke Avenue and silently made their way to 1010 Hurter Lane.

There was nothing to say, just time to wait.

Sid and Phoebe sat in the overly opulent interior decorated living room, pretending that they were actually having some semblance of a conversation, but both knowing they weren't interested.

Phone numbly made the calls to Bliss, Richardson, and the police station as if she was on auto, but these days she was always on auto. Her mind wandered elsewhere as her physical body was stuck sitting in a living as she waited her arsonist friend of hers to come by so that the police could arrest her...Now she understood why her mind went onto auto, it wasn't ready for all this set in... it didn't want it to set in.

So she sat tranquilly in her seat.

Sid on the other hand, chose to stare at a red mark that marred the cream and golden theme room. He remembered that it was caused by a little accident involving himself, Helga, and the last red icee in Phoebe's freezer.

_That was almost last year, _Sid thought to himself as he found his eyes almost diving into the red marking in the room, _last year was a good year... how did everything change... why did it change..._

A phone rang and jilted them both out of their waking daydreams before Phoebe haphazardly made her way across the room to answer the phone only to find out it was a telemarketer.

Who exactly in their right minds calls up someone's house to advertise foot powder on Christmas Eve?

"Shut the hell up." Phoebe said to the young woman on the other end of the phone, ignoring the gasp of indignation before slamming the cream colored phone back down on the hook. She sat back in her seat on the cream and gold sofa and re-immerse herself in the world of dreams once more until she and Sid heard the doorbell ring. They both calmly got off of the couch and made there way to the door. Phoebe didn't even bother looking through the peep hole, she just slammed the door open...

...And there was Helga in a bright blue pea coat, a bright oversized red hat jammed onto her head, and a bandage wrapped sloppy around her left hand.

Phoebe and Sid stared at her.

Helga stared back at them.

It was a contest of wills... unfortunately for Helga, Phoebe was unwilling... which was why Helga was so shocked to have something hot swipe across her face.

Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, Helga couldn't feel a thing, she still felt numb, but she did take her right hand to hold her now hot and red cheek. Stretching out her shoulders and neck she looked directly in Phoebe's dark eyes with her own light ones and said, "I do suppose I deserve that."

Sid said nothing but did find himself interested in the airspace right next to Helga's ear, Phoebe was feeling her numbness melt, her brain was shifting from auto to manual, and her brain realized that she was mad, Mad Hatter hopping mad. "What the hell were you thinking?"

Helga smiled and stared at Phoebe with glazed eyes. "Are you going to let me in?"

"Not until you tell me what the hell you were thinking!"

Helga looked at Sid, "Will you let me in?"

Sid looked down at Phoebe then at Helga before he moved himself and Phoebe out of the way to let Helga into Phoebe's house. He gathered Helga into his arms and began to walk her towards the living room, right as they were about to turn the corner her turned around to Phoebe and said, "You coming?" Then turned right back around and continued on his journey.

Phoebe stood by the door looking out into the empty streets, remembering that the news reporter said that it was supposed to snow around seven PM, making tomorrow a white Christmas. After a few calming breaths she was able to close the front door without slamming it, but didn't bother to lock it, then she made her way into the kitchen without stomping the whole way there. She needed to do something and her only real coping mechanism was cooking. She had been cooking up a storm for the last week, why stop now?

As she got out a large mixing bowl she glimpsed the clock only to realize Helga was ten minutes early, but that was not what mattered. What mattered was the fact that her best friend was about to be arrested for arson in ten minutes, not that she was ten minutes early. And that was when Phoebe began to slam cabinets open, slam ingredients onto the counter, and to mumble about "_stupid blonde arsonist._"

Sid and Helga winced as they heard chorus of slams resound from the kitchen. Sid rested an arm around Helga's shoulder and pulled her closer to him on the couch that they sat on. Helga automatically curled closer to him, resting her head on his chest and bringing up her legs onto the couch, hugging them close to her chest. Sid gently lifted Helga's hat off of her head as they both heard the loud _cling-gg _of a metal mixing bowl being slammed onto the floor and spin on the ground.

When Helga's hat was removed Sid was greeted by Helga's butchered blonde locks, and even though her hair had hacked edges, not even one strand passed Helga's chin. Sid said nothing for a while as she threw the hat into some unimportant corner of the room. He simply sat by Helga's slide for three minutes.

On the fourth minute he spoke, "Tell me what happened." Helga tried to shift out of Sid's hold, but he would not allow it, he only held her tighter, and let his chin rest on top of her head. "Just tell me Helga, it doesn't even matter if you purposefully started the fire or accidentally started the fire... just speak to me..."

Sid's gentle approach broke through to Helga and she told him everything that happened from Hilda's empty room to the fight with Lexie and Bob to finding the locks changed to burning the house to hiding out in the Hotel Flamingo, she omitted the parts about Stella at the cemetery, but that wasn't important what had happened the night before... or was it earlier in the morning... Helga had lost her concept of time. By the time she had finished telling Sid everything she knew that she was crying, and was inwardly surprised that she actually did have tears left to cry. Phoebe, who had been listening by the doorway, came in with a tray of brownies, three cups of milk and a box of tissues.

She sat them down at the center table in front of Sid and Helga before moving to sit down on the other side of Helga. She gave her a hug and said, "I made these yesterday." before giving Helga brownie. There were some unspoken words as Helga mindlessly munched on the brownie that Phoebe gave her, but truthfully, they did not need to be said.

And that's how Dr. Joi Bliss, Ms. Artemis Richardson, and the police found the three friends when they came to 1010 Hurter Lane, sitting down next to each other, eating brownies, and drinking milk.

One policeman with a thick red moustache spoke first reading Helga her rights before slapping some cuffs onto her thin wrist. The policeman's partner, a policewoman with her long blonde hair tamed by the french braid it was in, was the next to speak, "Fortunately for you, someone has already put up your bail money."

Immediately Helga looked at Phoebe who just threw a smile and shrugged her small shoulders. Helga was led outside into the cop car where she able to look out the window to see Sid and Phoebe inside of the house staring out of the window, staring at her. She kissed the window, not caring that it was probably filled with more germs than a toilet bowl just before the car drove off with her inside of it.

Sid and Phoebe stared as the car disappeared after the corner until Phoebe broke their silent vigil and walked away from the window.

Sid raised a dark eyebrow. "Where are you going?"

Phoebe smirked "I've got to go make sure my cookies don't burn." With that she vanished into the kitchen as Sid stood by the window, this time, he actually found himself enjoying the chorus slams.

**(Y/L)**

After dealing with a whole ordeal down at the police station, Helga found herself in one Ms. Artemis Richardson's office a day later, spread out on a bright blue chaise that seemed out of place in the lawyers office. It was Christmas day and she was still wearing the same clothes she had, had on for forty eight hours straight... And for some strange reason, Helga was not bothered by the fact.

"Helga, you do realize that you're being brought up on charges of arson, endangerment of lives, assault, and battery."

Helga studied the world beyond the ceiling to floor window of Arty's office, it was the ideal white Christmas... _Just like when it snowed in me and her back in 9th grade... she loved the snow... she loved the cold..._ "Yup."

"It seems that Judge Patton is handling your case, I'm trying to strike a deal with out of court."

"Okay." Helga said, still not really even hearing a word that Minerva had to say.

"It will probably include a fine, some community service, and some counseling... that is, if everything falls through with Bliss and we plea that you had a momentary lapse of sanity. Is that okay with you Helga?"

Reaching a pale hand to the white bulb that illuminated the lawyer's office, Helga only had two words to say, "That's fine."

The blonde woman glared at Helga with narrowed light brown eyes over the top of rimless Armani reading glasses. "Are you going to keep acting so nonchalant Helga?"

Helga looked at the thirty-something old woman, "I'm not acting nonchalant, Arty."

Arty rolled her light brown eyes before slamming a thick manilla folder down on her desk, "I'm bringing Joi in, I can't deal with you much longer." With that said Minerva marched out of the office and one Dr. Joi Bliss found herself being pushed into the room with the door shut– or rather slammed– loudly behind her.

"It seems that you've gotten underneath Artemis' skin." Bliss said once the ringing stopped in her ears.

Helga focused her attention on Dr. Bliss for a moment to say, "I've been doing that a lot these days." Helga then refocused her attention to looking outside of her window.

Bliss ignored the comment, instead she pulled up a chair beside the brightly colored chaise Helga was lying in.

Then there was silence.

And more silence for five minutes.

"I heard what happened with your younger sister, I'm sorry to hear that." Bliss said purposely keeping an eye on any signs of facial change or even a body movement of _patient_.

Bliss got what she wanted when Helga's body visibly tensed up. "Thank you, the doctors said that it was painless for her."

"Hmmm... I see... I suppose she's in a better place now, _hm_?"

Helga turned onto her side so that Bliss was facing her back, "I'm sure that she's... in a better place now."

"With your mother I suppose, _hm_?"

Helga made a small gesture with her hand towards the ceiling, knowing that Bliss knew she was referring to something beyond the ceiling. "Yes, I suppose she's... with my mother."

"That's good, _right_?"

"Very good."

"Okay, now tell me exactly why you can't you say her name?"

"I don't know what you're talking about Bliss."

"You know exactly what I'm talking about... this is exactly what happened... what... six... seven... eight years ago? You know what I'm talking about. I remember the day you left your last session the summer after 8th grade, you said you never wanted to have to see me again... at least inside of an office... look where you found yourself again, Helga." By this time Helga had plugged her ears with her fingers, but she could still hear Bliss no matter how hard she was trying to block the older woman out. "I thought you were better than this Helga."

"Shut up, you don't know me." Helga whispered fiercely, still with her back to the psychiatrist.

"Really Helga? I know that your destructive tendencies tend to get the better of you whenever you trying to hide from yourself... You were a bully in elementary to avoid having to confront yourself about your true feelings and true nature that was so different from the bully that everyone at P.S. 118 knew to love to hate."

"Shut up."

"In junior high you still carried this large chip from elementary school that became even larger with Miriam Hope Reynolds Pataki's death and with a certain Olga Gerlinde Pataki, now just simply Olga Chesterfield, staying in the same house as you, and let's not forget about one Mr. Bob Gerent Pataki making life hard.. _Hmmm_? You didn't want to confront the reality that had become your life... you ran away more than twice in 8th grade, got arrested, and had a knack for finding bad boys to keep your company, like that Ian character... oh, and let's not forget Mr. Tristan Nikolai."

"Shut up Bliss."

"But then you said you changed that you had found someone that needed you as much as them..."

"Shut up."

"You had found someone who needed someone to love and hey, maybe you could even love them back."

"Shut up!"

"You had found Hil–"

Helga turned around, lifting herself into a sitting position, and glared at the older woman with narrowed light blue eyes, "_SHUT_ _UP_! If you dare say her name I swear to the mother fucking lord of lords that I will kick your ass here and now!"

Bliss closed her mouth. At least she did, for a moment. "Helga until you want help, you are going to go through cycle again and again and again... and this time, I won't help you with the Patton, if you don't get your act together, I'm not going to help get you out of juvenile detention... who knows they might even try and get away with holding your case long enough that you'll be eighteen when they convict you and you go to jail. Make up your mind Pataki, you need to know what you want to do." Bliss put a folded paper by Helga's chair before getting up from her own and began heading to the door. "You have two weeks."

"Fuck you."

Bliss smiled. "Thanks, but no thanks, you're really not my type and you're a bit too young." Then the psychiatrist left office without even bothering to look back, leaving one Helga Pataki sitting in a blue chaise with a folded note crumbled in one of her pale hands.

Arty reentered the room with two cups of dark coffee. Helga watched with veiled interest, not sure if one cup was for her or if both cups were for the disgruntled Arty Richardson who looked like she needed both cups. Minerva took a seat where Bliss once sat and handed over the styrofoam cup filled with dark liquid to Helga, "So are you ready to be serious now, Helga?"

Helga smiled down at the small dark pool before taking a sip of the warm liquid, it was so bitter compared to hot chocolate. The two tasted nothing alike; maybe that's why Helga decided to dub coffee as her new favorite warm beverage.

Not because she needed to, but because it was different.

**(Y/L)**

Sorry, but I still don't own Hey Arnold! I do own YL. But I do own the idea and concepts of YL, oh, and anything you recognize, is probably not mine. The next chapter will have all my notes.

**Next Chapter**: _Me and My Shadow_

The review button demands that you click it...as do I...So click I say, CLICK!

S.L. Cipher– The Queen of Eville (No this not a spelling mistake but a higher echelon of evil, look it up in _The New Cipher Dictionary of Cipherous Lexiconography_) who will gladly accept all criticisms, advice, reviews, praises, and flames with a large Cheshire Cat Smile. Why the Cheshire Cat Smile? Why, because Cheshire Cat Smiles will always piss people off and Cipher loves pissing people off because it is exceptional fun... Especially when they try and attack you. Which is exactly why when one wields the Cheshire Cat Smile, it is important that they must also wield a mace and a sword.

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«·́̈·The Cipher ·́̈·»  
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	20. Me and My Shadow

Everyone changes with time. A day, a week, a month, a year... they all count. So how much can a group of rag tag 4th graders from P.S. 118 change with junior high, high school, and a whole bunch of history between those seven years? A whole lot.

**Years Later**

_Me and My Shadow_

The Hotel Flamingo was a dark and gritty hotel on the borderline that was shared between Wayside and Hillwood. It was the part where the two cities collided into the perfect darkness for any crook, thief, prostitute, etcetera, etcetera, wanted to go when they wanted not to be noticed or found. This was probably why Helga decided that she wanted to stay there. She wasn't allowed to even leave Hillwood due to court order, of course, but she wanted to stay as far way from town as possible.

On January 3rd every student of Crinshaw High School stumbled through the red painted doors, and by the end of second period every student of Crinshaw High knew Helga had burned a house down, literally.

She couldn't avoid the stares and whispers that followed her everywhere, or rather, she couldn't avoid the increasing amount of stares and more whispers that followed her now. She couldn't cut classes anymore because that would screw her over when Patton found out, so she stuck to smoking in the girl's bathroom during her lunch period, and once McNielson suddenly decided– without _any_ helpful _hints_ from any bimbos– that the bathroom fire detectors needed to reinstalled so that there was no battery outlet, Helga took to smoking outside, in the back of the school building. It was winter, but Helga did not find the weather cold at all, in fact she found the snow chilled air quite comfortable and refreshing.

McNielson and others in the school were purposely trying to hack Helga off so that she would get into more trouble, but Helga was way too smart for that. She knew that she first had to get out of trouble before she started anymore trouble.

(Y\\L)

_BEEP!_

_BEEP!_

_BEEP!_

_BEEP! _

The alarm clock beside her bed went off letting her know that she was supposed to wake and start to get ready for another day of school, but fortunately for the clock, she was already up, now she had to do was get ready for school. Helga hit the alarm button on her clock and crawled out of the bed that was probably not even suited for a druggie to sleep on, on its good days. Slowly moving across the cool tile floor Helga entered the bathroom, only to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

At first she stared in shock at the person looking back at her. This person looked starved, so skinny it looked like they hadn't eaten for days, their ribs were painstakingly sticking out on their sallow looking skin. The short chin length hair looked dull and knotted, and the eyes were brimmed with a deep red, as if the eyes had not even had one day of rest. And then Helga saw the person's face, the very face that had infuriated her just a few weeks ago, the very face that made her punch the glass mirror in her first room at the Hotel Flamingo, the very face that reminded her of her mother, Olga, and maybe even Hilda. Helga had tried for the past few days to remember what had happened during the first few hours after she burned down 1422 L Street, but all she got back from her brain was and image of a large bonfire where her house once stood.

After a while of getting the same results, Helga had simple stopped trying to remember... plus, it didn't matter any, the damage had already been done. Helga turned on the shower of the bathroom and turned the knob all the way to the left, turning the water t o a scalding hot and without a second thought she entered the shower, wondering, even so far as hoping, that maybe the hot water would break through her skin so she could finally feel something.

Helga entered Crinshaw High School two minutes before the first bell rang in a black pull over sweatshirt, black pants, black sneakers, and her blonde hair being held at bay by a deep purple scrunchy. There was nothing unusual about the time she entered the school, or even her outfit, it had become a norm, just like the whispers and stares that followed her as she made her way to the second floor, towards her locker. When Helga reached her locker she was not surprised to see that one Phoebe G. Heyerdahl was missing, Phoebe had been conveniently coming to her locker early and reaching their first period class early.

Helga understood why, after all, everyone dealt with grief differently... of course she knew this from experience. Another shocker was the fact that Sid D. Gifaldi found his way to Helga's locker holding all of her books, including the books that Helga was supposed to take home to do homework, but simply had decided that it was better to forget them.

"Hey."

"Hey." And that was the extent of Helga's and Sid's conversation, afterwards the began the trek to Mr. Simmons' Language Arts class, and took their customary seats near Phoebe.

On her desk Helga found a small red slip that would have served as a pass to let her see her guidance counselor, but Helga had been avoiding that office like the plague ever since she got the white slip. That white slip then turned into a green slip, then it magically appeared as a blue slip, that graduated into the red slip that signified that it was urgent. Helga had decided that she didn't really want to her Mr. Ginnoai tell her that her GPA was slipping, it was not something that Helga needed to hear. After all she already knew what going on, she was blind, she was just tired, just very tired.

Somehow Helga managed to zone out her whole entire first period, even though they were taking a test on the play they were reading, Hamlet. Unfortunately, Helga hadn't even read a scene, let alone the whole play. When the bell rung, everyone in the class got up and handed Mr. Simmons their paper, even Helga, although hers was noticeably blank.

Helga was about to exit the door, but she was stopped before she could go about her merry way and go to her second period class that she knew was located somewhere inside of Crinshaw High...too bad she didn't know exactly where...

Once the classroom was empty Mr. Simmons spoke, "Helga, I know you're going through a difficult time right now, but if you don't manage to pick up your grades soon, you might fail the third marking period."

"I know Mr. Simmons, I promise, I'll try harder."

At first, Helga wasn't quite sure had said this, and then she realized... it was her... it was her who had spoke.

Almost as if a tape recorder with her voice, she was speaking, except she wasn't she had no idea what was prompting her to speak, but it was. Something had taken over her body and shifted it into auto again and was giving the same automatic response once again... and Helga decided to let it... she couldn't be bothered anymore.

**(Y/L)**

The bell for six period had rung two minutes ago, and while Helga started her trek to the visitor bleachers of the football field, Phoebe and Sid sat at their customary lunch table. Phoebe pulled out a brown paper bag full of baked treats before digging through her backpack and pulling out another. It was supposed to be Helga's.

It was too bad Helga never came to lunch anymore. But even though her best friend didn't come to the cafeteria anymore, Phoebe kept backing a second brown paper and placing by the vacant chair that Helga usually sat at.

Once the bell rung, signifying the end of their lunch break, Sid took up the full brown bag of goodies and threw it into the garbage pail, along with the one in front of Phoebe.

As they walked out of the cafeteria doors Sid simply asked, "Why Phoebe?"

Phoebe smiled back at Sid, "Because it's the one thing that I can still do."

And that was that.

**(Y/L)**

_Hmm... the moon must be closer to Earth, _Helga decided at the bright moon that looked larger than usual. Discussions with Patton were about to begin within two days, Bliss and Minerva were discussing their plan of action while Helga laid on the bright blue chaise, eyes glued on the window to the outside world.

Every once in she tuned into the conversation to see if anything was worth her wild and this time it was.

"It seems that Mr. Pataki is going to fight Helga's decision for filing for emancipation." Minerva said with her dark olive eyes glued to the manila folder in front of her.

Bliss took a sip of her Earl Grey tea, "I wonder why..."

Helga and Minerva shared a look.

To Helga, the answer for that question was not hard at all... _The Heifer has probably convinced the Ham that it would be better to make me suffer with them than to just let me go... the Heifer probably wants to send me off to military school...stupid trick... _

She and Minerva both knew the answer.

About an hour later, Helga had been walking from Minerva's office to her hotel room down at the Flamingo when a blue Honda Accent slowed down next to her. The driver rolled down the window and Helga was able to see the face of a familiar brunette.

"Hello Helga."

"Hi Stella."

The brunette cocked her head to the right and stared at Helga, "Isn't it too cold to be out without a coat... again."

"I forgot it when I left in my hotel room."

"Hmm... do you need a ride back to your hotel? If you stay out here without a coat for much longer you'll catch a cold."

Before Helga could reply, the passenger door opened and Helga had no choice but to enter the car.

"So where to?" Stella asked after Helga got settled in the passenger seat.

"The Hotel Flamingo."

Stella raised a single eyebrow, but said nothing as she drove off in the direction of the Flamingo. It wasn't until they had reached the stoplight that was two blocks from the Flamingo that Stella actually said something, "Isn't the Flamingo a bit dangerous for a young girl like you?"

Helga shrugged her shoulders and the light turned green. Stella drove on, until the got to the second stoplight. "I heard what happened on the 23rd."

"I don't think there is one person in Hillwood that hasn't."

Stella laughed and her laugh wasn't a breathy kind of laugh or the kind that everyone related to the voice of angels, but it was the kind of laugh that told a person that they were amused. Stella sighed after she stopped laughing, "I guess that kind of news travels fast."

"Yea."

Stella drove into the parking lot of the Hotel Flamingo and parked her car in one of the empty spots. Helga unbuckled her seat and exited the car before she said, "Thank you."

Just as Helga was about to walk away Stella called out to her, "Wait a second Helga." Helga turned silently to look at the older woman. "I'm sure that you already know that I'm Arnold's mother, the head shape usually gives it away, but since I'm sure you know that, you probably know where I live..." Stella trailed off, pausing for a moment before she began to search through the glove box. She pulled out an old Lord and Taylor receipt and a pen, she hastily scribbled something on the back of the receipt and held it in Helga's direction. "If you ever need someone to talk to, just call me."

Helga took the receipt from the older woman's outstretched hand. "Thanks."

"No problem." Stella smiled before backing out of the parking spot and driving back in the direction of her house.

Helga stood outside a bit longer with the number scribbled on a receipt in her hand, inspecting the neat hand writing and the large digits. After standing outside for almost ten minutes, Helga jammed the number in the back pocket of her black jeans and headed in the direction of her room.

**(Y/L)**

Sorry, but I still don't own Hey Arnold! I do own YL. But I do own the idea and concepts of YL, oh, and anything you recognize, is probably not mine. Originally this chapter plus chapter 19 were just one big chapter, but then I decided to cut them in half. So, think of this as instead of getting one big chapter you get two normal sized ones. Thank you Bleeding in Vein, Grylfrend, Leah, Garlic Blanket, Yzibella, and Shadow Goddess Akhet for the reviews. Welp, see ya'll in a month or so... I wouldn't expect another chapter until late July, early August 'cause I am going to get my hands on the new Harry Potter book as soon as I get home and let's just say I'm not putting it down until I'm done reading it...two times in a row...

PS:

_Leah_, Well, think of Sid as a link between the two different groups. Now because Sid is a common factor, just like in real life situations, just because two different groups are not friends doesn't mean you don't know their business. In fact, when you have a common friend, you tend to know everything about the other group. Yea, I could change the events, but, I won't because... just because. Hope everything is cleared up for you!

**Next Chapter**:_ Hell, the Place on Earth_

The review button demands that you click it...as do I...So click I say, CLICK!

S.L. Cipher– The Queen of Eville (No this not a spelling mistake but a higher echelon of evil, look it up in _The New Cipher Dictionary of Cipherous Lexiconography_) who will gladly accept all criticisms, advice, reviews, praises, and flames with a large Cheshire Cat Smile. Why the Cheshire Cat Smile? Why, because Cheshire Cat Smiles will always piss people off and Cipher loves pissing people off because it is exceptional fun... Especially when they try and attack you. Which is exactly why when one wields the Cheshire Cat Smile, it is important that they must also wield a mace and a sword.

('·.̧('·.̧··̧.·'́)̧.·'́)  
«·́̈·The Cipher ·́̈·»  
(̧.·'́(̧.·'́ ̈ '·.̧)'·.̧.)


	21. Hell, that Place on Earth I

Everyone changes with time. A day, a week, a month, a year... they all count. So how much can a group of rag tag 4th graders from P.S. 118 change with junior high, high school, and a whole bunch of history between those seven years? A whole lot.

**Years Later**

_Hell, that Place on Earth_

_PART I_

"_Helga, I know your cell phone is on, I know you have caller ID, and I know that's why you won't pick up... I could go on and say how much Sid and I are worried," _A pause and then a very unlady like snort_, "But I'm sure you know that from the fifteen million voice mails Sid has probably left on your phone... Just remember, tomorrow, no matter what happens, no matter the outcome, Sid and I will both be waiting for you at the other end." _

"_To replay this message press one, to–"_

Helga quickly pressed the illuminated button marked seven on her cell phone before the monotone voice spoke again. _"Monday, January 31st, eleven forty-five..."_

The monotone female voice was soon replaced by a very familiar male voice. _"Helga, you need to pick up your goddamn phone. Pheebs and I will both be waiting outside of the courthouse tomorrow. We _will _see you there."_

Helga pressed the seven one her phone again, then quickly flipped the new replacement phone shut. She was placing in one of the pockets on the back of her jeans when she felt, the over familiar brush of a worn and crinkled paper at her fingertips. Without a second thought, Helga pulled out the small and now very broken looking piece of paper.

As she observed the faded purple-blue abbreviated words, characters, and numbers on the front of the sheet of the paper as she held onto the receipt that was so worn it had a leathery feel to it.

Throughout the week, and then the next weeks, and then the next month, after Stella had given Helga her number, Helga found herself continually pulling out the receipt with Stella's number on it. Without even realizing, Helga just she kept on picking it up every morning to jam it in the back pocket of whatever pants or jeans she decided to wear that day. When she came in at night– or early morning or whenever she decided to come in to her hotel room to lie on her bed, she unconsciously took the paper out of her jeans and left it on the dresser for the next day.

It was a viscous cycle.

She was tempted, _oh so tempted_, to pick up the phone and allow herself to have some real human contact that she was being denied and was denying herself.

It would a merciful release from the private hell that she seemed to be trapping herself in, but somehow Helga just couldn't allow herself this one small privilege, there would be no escape.

_...Abandon all hope, ye who enter here..._

And perhaps this was why Bliss called her a masochist.

"_Your always find a way to cause yourself pain, it's almost as if you enjoy it, revel in it. You're in a situation when you need support, but instead of gravitating toward it, you push all support away even if it's from a friend... which is normal. What's not normal is how you do it; you purposely torture yourself and your friends. Helga, to put it simply, you're a _masochist_," _Insert a pause here and a deep breath. _"And a bit of a _sadist_," _Insert another pause here and an even deeper breath. _"All in all, you, my dear, are what my colleagues and I call an emotional wreck."_

She didn't need her night sessions with Bliss and Arty for this diagnosis, but hearing this come out of someone else's mouth was a bit different from reciting it in her head.

Denial was always her best friend, so the truth hurt.

A lot.

Once again, Helga pushed the now worn receipt into the back pocket of her denim jeans and walked out of the phone booth she had been standing in. Outside, a man pushed past Helga and ran into the unoccupied space, muttering under his breath, "Took you long enough."

To this Helga turned around and flashed the man a smile that bordered the unique combination of maniacal and disarming. Her blue eyes glowed with the help of the street light, letting the mysterious man see the conglomerate of colors swirling in the teen's eyes circling around the hazel bursts that surrounded her retinas. The light, unfortunately, also helped to reveal the purplish bags that were settling under said eyes, "Thanks I know."

Without another word, she turned around and walked away, leaving the man to stare at her retreating back, not worried that he probably thought she was crazy... which, as Helga thought about, she just might be.

For the last forty-eight hours, thirty-nine minutes, and fifteen seconds, Helga Geraldine Pataki had not been able to sleep, not for one hour, not for one minute, not for one second.

She just couldn't sleep.

The insomnia led to her walking the streets of Wayside and Crinshaw– even though she was technically not supposed to even leave the borders of Crinshaw. She saw a lot of things on the street, things she had known, and things that people had only read about in the stories of the newspaper, but somehow, she was able to ignore it all on her leisure walks through whatever town she was walking in.

She just let her feet guide to wherever they wanted to take her, to wherever they wanted to lead her.

Tonight they wanted to be in Crinshaw.

Tonight they wanted her to walk through her old neighborhood.

Tonight they wanted to torture her with what used to be the simplicity of elementary school... to torture her with reliving the past... to torture her with what used to be her life... what used to be happiness...

Tonight they wanted Helga to break

She bid a hello to the grounds that once held her childhood home and had housed her until the night of December 23rd. She said hello to Gerald Field, which had long ago been handed over to the new generation of P.S. 118 students. She said hello to Phoebe's house, knowing that the other teen was just beginning her descent into sleep at one thirty in the morning of Tuesday, February 1st. Helga even went so far as to say hello to_ Sunset Arms _boarder house, the place that housed her ex-crush that she had pined for during those simple days of elementary school. She walked away from the building, not realizing she actually woke someone up during her one o'clock vigil.

Somehow, just somehow, Helga found herself being guided to a specific place by some ever knowing guiding force– probably that same tired old harpy people called Lady Fate, but Helga called the spawn of evil. The lady, didn't seem quite done with pushing Helga to the edge, and so that Helga was there.

There, standing in the playground of P.S. 118, with the abandoned hollow sounds of swings being rattled by the wind, teeter totters squeaking from the lack of oil being supplied to their rusty limbs, even the slide groaned a little in the chilled winter wind, forewarning anyone that chose to listen that it wasn't exactly the safest piece of equipment.

It was too bad that Helga turned a deaf ear to the world and all of its appurtenances.

Especially when the worlds _and _its appurtenances all decided that they knew exactly what Helga needed to do, needed to say, needed to be, needed to be with, needed to go, needed blink, needed to sleep, needed to eat, needed to go to the bathroom, you name it, the world and the appurtenances had already decided when Helga should or shouldn't do it.

Helga was far passed annoyed.

She was downright pissed off.

Climbing to the top of what everyone back in her days of P.S. 118 called _Ol' Rusty_, Helga laid down on the top of the slide looking up into the conveniently blank night sky.

Taking out a pack of her favorite cigarettes, _Lina Grette's Cigarettes_, of course, from one of the front pocket of her jeans, she took out a single white and mustard colored stick and plopped it in her mouth, not particularly caring that it was slightly crooked and bent out of shape. Taking out her Pink Panther Zippo from her other front pocket, she flicked it open, not caring about the flame that was dancing before her eyes, instead using it to light her cigarette. As she took a large puff, then exhaled, she played with her Zippo, glad that a pyromaniac gave it to her all those years ago.

She could still feel the initials of 'TVN' engraved at the bottom of the lighter right above the initials of 'HGP'. Helga allowed herself a soft smile as she almost drifted off back into the years that were junior high school.

Almost being the operative word, of course.

"You know," A voice from below called, "Those things will kill you."

"You know," Helga said trying to imitate the voice of the person standing on the ground right in front of the slide. "I really don't care." She took a long exaggerated drag from her cigarette, blowing the smoke out of her mouth slowly. "And neither should you."

When Helga heard no response, she figured she most of pissed the other person off, so that they left.

As usual, Helga was wrong.

She heard the tell tale sounds of clanking and creaking of someone climbing up _Ol' Rusty'_s ladder, and before she knew she saw the face of one Arnold H. Linshaw above hers. She rolled her blues eyes and let them wander elsewhere.

"It's late at night, Helga."

"I know Linshaw, unlike you I have a watch that actually works."

Now it was Arnold's turn to roll his green eyes. "What I mean is, shouldn't you be somewhere that... I dunno," He paused for a dramatic affect. "_Inside _maybe? With... I dunno, _heating_, perhaps?"

"Should I?"

"Most normal people are."

Helga continued to puff away at her cigarette. "Hm."

Then there was silence...

...And more silence...

... And then... more silence...

Finally Arnold lost in the unspoken game that he and Helga were playing, he talked, again. "Shouldn't you be getting ready for your final meeting with the judge? Doesn't it start in," He looked down at his perfectly functioning Rolex. "Four hours and twenty-two minutes?"

Arnold finally got Helga's full attention, her light blue eyes were completely focused on him, even though they were narrowed. "Exactly how do you know this?"

"Sid doesn't always want to burden Phoebe with his worries, and these days because you're the cause of worry, he has now decided to turn to me."

"How... _nice_" Helga said flatly, her eye wandering to the sky once more.

"He's really worried about you."

"Who isn't? Just about everybody's mama's neighbor's cousin's dog is."

Arnold sighed, it was that short breathy sigh that he always used, just like he did back in the days of P.S. 118 and Helga felt a brief whiff of nostalgia.

A very brief minuscule whiff.

"He's a wreck, he's been this way since..." Arnold's voice trailed of, the owner knowing that he was treading dangerous waters.

Fortunately, Helga was there to finish his sentence. "Let me guess, you were going to say Linshaw, but don't have enough balls to finish,_ '... he's been this way since _November_'_?" Helga snorted. "Everyone's been a wreck." She took another drag from the cigarette.

"True."

"Then what do you want from me, Arnold?" Helga asked looking the other teen directly in the eyes, letting the cigarette dangle from her long, pale fingers.

The cigarette's gray smoke floated in the air rising above them both, into the sky that was devoid of any real light, with the exception to quarter moon that seemed far away from earth this night.

Arnold silently took the cigarette out of Helga's loose grip, with no protest coming from the owner of the said cigarette. He inspected the slim stick from the end point to end point, from white tip to mustard tip, still silent as he did so, with a look of disgust clearly etched on his face. Curiously, not the kind of disgust directed towards Helga or the cigarette, but self disgust. Without warning he pressed the lit end on the slide and snuffed it out.

"I don't want a thing from you, but Phoebe and Sid probably would appreciate it if you would stop isolating them and started to talk to them again. And your lungs would probably appreciate it if you didn't smoke."

Helga snorted as she began to play with her Zippo once again.

"Helga,"

"What Linshaw?"

"It's one fifty, you probably should go get some rest."

"Hm."

Arnold rolled his eyes again and Helga could hear the clanks and groans of the slide's ladder as he began his descent from the top of Ol' Rusty to the ground below. Once she figured that he had begun to walk away, she reached for another cigarette, and that's when her world went black.

A thick, oversized, black hoodie was covering her face. Quickly gathering what was left of her wits, she sat up and pulled the shirt off of her face. She saw Arnold walking away from the slide now, with his hands jammed in the back pockets of his pants.

She stared at the hoodie in her hands and then looked at the male walking away from her, and then suddenly, he stopped, turned around and looked at her. "That's from my mother. She would appreciate it if you decided that you want to return it."

And without another word, Arnold H. Linshaw left the playground of P.S. 118, and left behind one formerly pink haired female smoking on top of _Ol' Rusty_, with a black hoodie placed underneath her head as a pillow.

**(Y/L)**

Sorry, but I still don't own Hey Arnold! I do own YL. I alsoown the idea and concepts of YL, oh, and anything you recognize and think is not mine, is probably, more often than not, not mine. Thank you Shadow Goddess Akhet, Demile, Garlic Blanket, Grylfrend, Novasenshi, Drucilla Black, Kevinspyromaniac, Ahhelga, and Dark-Axem for the encouraging reviews. I read, I saw, I conquered, but could not reconquer. Man, that curve ball at the end of Harry Potter and the HBP through me off, but somehow, just because of my analytical being, I can not take what happened for face value yet. Guess we'll all find out how it'll all end in what, 2007 I suppose... Damn, it's gonna be a long two years... Ahem... anyways, thanks for patiently awaiting my return. No worries, PART II will be out in a few days, a week tops, I promise, promise. But because y'all have been so patient, I'll let you see what I've been thinking up for the past few weeks or so. A bit a prequel to YL, but it won't come out for a little while, certain things have to be discussed and certain things or persons need to appear before this story come out. At any rate here is just the experimental beginning.

**(PREVIEW)**

So how exactly did Helga and Phoebe become _the Helga _and _the Phoebe _of YL? How did they meet Ian? Who the hell is this Tristan guy? What in bloody hell is The Fight Nights? How did Kammie come into the picture? How in the world does The Gambling Nights fit into the picture? And... where the hell is Sid Delano Gifaldi? You sure you really wanna know? Fine. But first you have to take the Acid Liquid Cooler Test... just to be sure... _Oh_, you _don't _know what that is? Oh... you'll soon find out...

**Acid Liquid Cooler Test**

a mini short story told in three chapters about ...

the Helga and the Phoebe...

the Pink Punster and the Blue Brat...

the Blondie and the Vega and

... how it came to be that way...

_of moths, flames, and the beauty of machine guns_

_**Through the words and thoughts of one Helga Geraldine Pataki the Second— and yes, unfortunately and somehow there was a first before someone decided to torture the second, questions?**_

In the words of a very wise... or maybe very stupid friend of mine, "I am not a very smart girl, if bad boys were a flame, then I'd be the moth... yes I'd be that one girl in the horror movie who goes searching in the basement clad only in my underwear searching for the killer in the middle of a dark night with only a kitchen pot for protection before finding the killer and running all the way upstairs to the second floor instead of running out the front door that I passed while trying to get away from said killer... and may there be no cure... may I shrivel up in the flames that are bad boys before that accursed cure is found. The good girl in me craves the bad that's in the bad boys... Hallelujah... and Amen..."

By the time I was halfway through seventh grade I had adopted this as my new motto and by the time I hit eighth grade I was the preacher, the defender, the disciple, and addict of Bad Boyizm.

And I liked my life that way.

**(PREVIEW)**

PS:

_Shadow Goddess Akhet_, Ah... confusion, which probably is not uncommon with me as the author of the story. You see, I have this tendency to constantly go back at edit chapters when I notice an error or want to add something, in this case, Stella, who is Arnold's mother, along with her husband Miles were written into the story around chapter three I believe. Sorry bout that. Oh, I've changed Arnold's eyes from light blue to sea green, which means, I have a bunch of chapters to edit... again. Hope I cleared up any confusion.

_Ahhelga_, Why yes, yes I do.

_IMUniquelyStupid_, Right about... now...

**Next Chapter**: _Hell, that Place on Earth: PART II_

The review button demands that you click it...as do I...So click I say, CLICK!

S.L. Cipher– The Queen of Eville (No this not a spelling mistake but a higher echelon of evil, look it up in _The New Cipher Dictionary of Cipherous Lexiconography_) who will gladly accept all criticisms, advice, reviews, praises, and flames with a large Cheshire Cat Smile. Why the Cheshire Cat Smile? Why, because Cheshire Cat Smiles will always piss people off and Cipher loves pissing people off because it is exceptional fun... Especially when they try and attack you. Which is exactly why when one wields the Cheshire Cat Smile, it is important that they must also wield a mace and a sword.

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«·́̈·The Cipher ·́̈·»  
(̧.·'́(̧.·'́ ̈ '·.̧)'·.̧.)

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	22. Hell, that Place on Earth II

Everyone changes with time. A day, a week, a month, a year... they all count. So how much can a group of rag tag 4th graders from P.S. 118 change with junior high, high school, and a whole bunch of history between those seven years? A whole lot.

**Years Later**

_Hell, that Place on Earth_

_PART II_

Helga could not be sure how she made it to the court four hours and some odd amount of minutes after her encounter with Arnold H. Linshaw or exactly how she managed to look presentable, but she did manage both tasks quite well.

Okay, at least well enough.

She was nestled in a seat next to Arty, who looked pristine as ever with her golden hair pulled back into an impeccably neat bun, a pair of sliver rimmed glasses perched on top her nose, while wearing an expensive navy blue suit that was obviously custom made. Meanwhile, Helga's hair looked like it had been combed through by a very sharp rake, but that is beside the point.

Helga observed the judge in his chair with the wrinkles folding his face, his white pompadour in place, and the insistent frown he continued to wear, even though it made his wrinkle lines even more evident. He looked aggravated and for a brief moment, a very, very brief moment, Helga wondered was finally ready to send her up— or was it down— the proverbial river, but then she remembered that he always looked that way. Annoyed with the madhouse the world had become and ready to shoot anyone who disagreed with him.

She wondered for a moment, a very brief moment,if Patton was really going to send her to jail.

She saw the stenographer with her owl glassed eyesfocused on the other few people in the room and her hands steadily typing away all of her observations. She even saw Bob Pataki and Lexie Jones had put themselves together for the wonderful spectacular show. Lexie was even so bold as to not put any make-up on the bruises and cuts that she acquired from Helga on December 23rd. Looking at Lexie Helga began to understand the depth of Picasso and his work, just like Picasso Helga felt thather artwork looked wonderful, but to an outsider both of their works looked deranged and semi horrific.

Helga's only life lines in the room were Arty and Bliss, everyone else probably wanted Helga to rot in a juvenile correctional center until she was eighteen so that she could be shippedoff to jail, where she would rot for the rest of her natural life.

As far as she heard, her sister had not takena side in the case, probably because it would be a loteasier for her to pick a side as soon as she knew who the winner was. But Helga didn't care either way, Olga was Olga and there was nothing that Helga, or as a matter of fact anyoneelse in the world,could actually do about it. Unless she decided to fight Olga, but Helga knew better than that, she really did not want to live out the rest of her natural life in jail. Thought just was not appealing.

The 'court' hearing was a private session with only the judge, the lawyers, the prosecutor, the defendant, the stenographer, a police officer, and experts discussing material dealing with the case— like Bliss.

Bliss already delivered her testimony, clearly saying before all in the room that Helga's unstable behavior resulted from the child neglect she had experienced under her father's care, suggesting that Helga needed some therapy in the outside world rather than confinement in juvenile. When the prosecuting lawyer cross examined Bliss, he pointed out the fact that Bliss' testimony was the very same testimony she gave back when Helga was in junior high school, and that her behavior hadn't changed much, even with therapy.

That pissed Helga off.

After Bliss stepped down from the stand the police officer her was the first to respond to the 9-1-1 callthat Mrs. Peterson made those many weeks ago. After his testimony another person took the stand, once that person stepped down another person went on. The trend continued on for hoursupon hours asHelga absentmindly stared at theplain cream and black clock's hands hand that almostseemed to be inchingbackwards rather than forward.

Then there was a break.

Hours and hours followed.

Helga sat silently with her hands in her lap. Arty told her it was better that she didn't give a testimony.

Helga, at least in her mind, agreed. On the outside she showed no sign of change, no emotion, no thought, she looked like she was devoid of any human process. Almost mannequin-esque. Which was exactly why she did not want to give a testimony, she could not react properly with the outside world, even though her life actually depended on it. She knew she would freeze in the middle of her testimony , she also knew that Arty knew it, which was why it was generally understood that Helga was to say nothing at all throughout the trial.

Hours and hours passed and then thedecision was there, on both the charge brought against Helga for arson and Helga's request for emancipation from her father. And Helga was fortunate.

Patton did not through in a juvenile correctional center, instead he put he ordered for therapy, a massive amount of volunteer hours— in order to give back to society—, assigned her a correctional officer that she had to check in with every week, and a hefty fine, which Helga would have to pay with the money she just gained from The Gambling Night. But the most important ruling was on the matter of Helga's freedom… and Helga was free, she was finally free.

Helga could feel the familiar pricks behind her eyes, they were assuring that she was human, and on that very day, Helga Pataki, after weeks of desert likedryness, finally cried one again, letting the tears find their own paths down her cheek and onto the wooden floor.

**(Y/L)**

Helga, even in her dazed bubble world, could feel Arty lead her out of the room, through the courthouse, to the main vestibule, and then she felt Arty stop walking, so in turn, she stopped walking.

"So Helga," She began giving the younger blonde an appraising look. "What are you planning you do with your new found freedom?"

Helga shrugged. "I'm— I'm not sure."

Arty shook her head in disapproval and a frown placed itself onto her lips, which ironically did not take away from her beauty, but instead actually highlighted it. At times like these Helga disliked Arty immensely. "Well as long as you don't find yourself in anymore trouble both Joi and I will be very happy people. Just remember next time, and hopefully there won't be a next time, it will be your _last_ _and_ _final_ strike, and I don't believe Patton will be so nice and forgiving anymore."

Helga nodded her head. "I'll try and remember that."

"Good." Arty dipped her hand into her purse, retrieving a non-descript white business card before holding out said card to Helga. Helga, being Helga of course, looked at said card in puzzlement. Arty saw this puzzlement and smirked, she never smiled. "This is my business card, obviously, considering it does have my name on it and all, but on the back are my personal cell phone number and my house number just in case you need anything… anything that does not involve you needing a lawyer to get you out of legal trouble, of course."

Once Arty realized that Helga was going to continue to stare at the card shetook the initiative to slip the slim piece of paper into the pocket of the dark sweatshirt that rested in the crook of Helga's arms. With a pat on the back and a '_goodbye,'_ Arty turned around and left the courthouse.

Helga watched as the older and taller blonde smoothly strolled down the steps in her three inch Jimmy Choo heels and disappeared into a sleek silver Rolls-Royce, which had its own personal driver, of course. Moments later the sleek silver Rolls-Royce drove off and disappeared around a corner, heading in the vague direction of Upper Hillwood.

Helga knew she stood in the vestibule for at least a half an hour before she actually stepped onto the front steps of the courthouse, but sure enough as soon as walked a few millimeters away from the courthouse steps, she spotted Sid and Phoebe sitting on top of Irina Heyerdahl's red Ferrari, both bundled up in their winter clothes, both waiting patiently for Helga to come to them even though they both knew she saw them, and they saw her.

Helga did not keep them waiting for long.

She walked over to her friends.

**(Y/L)**

Helga found herself back at The Hotel Flamingo, not because she needed to be there but because she wanted to be there.

Both Sid and Phoebe had made copious amount of offers, offering Helga a roomin their homes, Sid even offered to personally kick his older brother out of the guest room if Helga said yes.

But Helga was Helga G. Pataki, and said 'no'. Helga really did not want to burden her friends any more than she already had. So instead she continued on staying at a seedy hotel in the middle of ahighly dangerous and very seedy area.

Sometimes Helga was not the smartest crayon in the box, which was an oxymoron because crayon's can not think, and perhapsthat was probably why Helga was not the smartest crayon in the box. Helgadid not think, and at times, she was even dumber than crayons.

It wasn't until two days after her emancipation did Helga's living area became a problem.

Principal McNielson, being the _kind_ and _generous_ man that he was, decided to point out that technically, even though the Hotel Flamingo was in Hillwood, the school district area fell into E.V. Wayside High School territory.

In other words, Helga either stayed in the Hotel Flamingo and got transferred to E.V. Wayside High School, or she had to find another living area in order to stay in Crinshaw High School.

Helga found herself in trouble, again. She did not tell Sid or Phoebe about her dilemma because they would once again push for her to stay at their homes, and Helga really did not want to burden them.

And then there was Helga's other dilemma. Her meeting with her correctional officer was in two days and she had given no thought as to where she wanted volunteer. Having no place to volunteer was a majorproblem because if she did not have a place to volunteer or a sufficient enough place to volunteer according to Judge Patton, her correctional officer would choose a place for her, and it probably would not be a place filled with marshmallows and sugar plum fairies.

In other words, Helga was screwed.

So Helga did the only thing she knew how to do in a situation like this.

She roamed the streets of Hillwood.

It was a dark night out. The stars were being covered by the clouds in the sky and it was the first day of a new moon, but Helga did not mind. At least now the street lights could keep her company as she walked aimlessly around, what seemed to be at night, a ghost town. Although Helga did see that _Patty's_ was still open, after all it was open twenty-four hours a day, every day of the week with the exception of the holiday schedule.

Helga had quit weeks ago, but Patty understood, just like Mr. Simmons understood when she temporarily stepped down as the Chief Editor of Sparta. Although, Helga had realized that technically no one had temporarily taken up the position of Chief Editor. When she first started talking to him she had wanted to resign, but somehow Mr. Simmons managed to convince, or rather made her feel guilty enough, that she only put her position on hold, letting the Junior Editors run the paper while she took her leave.

As her mind wandered, Helga's feet went on the same pursuit, wandering, and to Helga's surprise, once her mind paused midway through its thought journey, she found herself once again standing at the gates of P.S. 118. Helga almost smiled when she heard the creaking of all of the old metal that needed oiling.

Almost.

Slowly Helga made her way through the playground making sure she visited every piece of equipment, even only for a brief moment. From the monkey bars, to the jungle gym, to metal dome, to Ol' Rusty, to the hopscotch area, and then finally to the swings, where she sat on a seat that was slightly to snug for her hips.

Mindlessly Helga pumped her feet in the air bring the swing into motion, slowly arching forward into the air, before being brought back to the earth to be brought backwards into another, then falling back to the earth.

Helga closed her eyes and relaxed.

It was calming cycle where anyone and everyone could predict the future.

Arch.

Earth.

Arch.

Earth.

Over and over again.

No outside variables.

Just arch, earth, arch, earth, nothing more nothing less. No outside variables, unlike her life, which was probably why she found it comforting.

This was exactly why only after five minutes of her calm cycle, Helga found Stella A. Linshaw sitting in the swing to the right of her.

Helga stopped pumping her legs.

Stella, unlike Helga,was petite so fitted perfectly into the swing seat.

Stella sent Helga a soft smile, "Hello."

Helga tried to smile, but it came out awkward and crooked, it looked demented. After a while, Helga gave up. "Hi."

Stella started to pump her own legs, with the exception of the creaking of oil deprived metal links of Stella's swing, the puffs of Helga's and Stella's breath, and the whoosh of the winter winds, the P.S. 118 playground was silent.

Simply silent.

**(Y/L)**

Sorry, but I still don't own Hey Arnold! I do own YL. But I do own the idea and concepts of YL, oh, and anything you recognize and think is not mine, is probably more often than not, not mine. Thank you Drucilla Black, Ahhelga, Demile, Laurel, Waterbaby426, Shadow Goddess Akhet, Sheshe17, LaurelA23, Grylfrend, Viper0z1, Le Diable Blanc, and Bea for the encouraging reviews that helped me actually write and finish this chapter. Thank you to everyone that waited as patiently as they could. And did I say weeks, I meant months. Lots of stuff has been happening. But now I'm back, and I've been accepted into a college. WOOT! I've missed y'all a whole bunches and if I were you I would read over the first twenty-one chapters, I've changed a few things around and added a few things that you might want to read up on, although the changes are more so found in the beginning chapters. As I got to the later chapters I got lazy so I'll probably do another re-haul in a few weeks. See you guys soon and sorry for the wait.

**Next Chapter:** _Hell, that Place on Earth III_

The review button demands that you click it...as do I...So click I say, CLICK!

S.L. Cipher– The Queen of Eville (No this not a spelling mistake but a higher echelon of evil, look it up in _The New Cipher Dictionary of Cipherous Lexiconography_) who will gladly accept all criticisms, advice, reviews, praises, and flames with a large Cheshire Cat Smile. Why the Cheshire Cat Smile? Why, because Cheshire Cat Smiles will always piss people off and Cipher loves pissing people off because it is exceptional fun... Especially when they try and attack you. Which is exactly why when one wields the Cheshire Cat Smile it is important that they must also wield a mace and a sword.

('·.¸('·.¸··¸.·'´)¸.·'´)

«·´¨·The Cipher ·´¨·»

(¸.·'´(¸.·'´ ¨ '·.¸)'·.¸.)


	23. Hell, that Place on Earth III

Everyone changes with time. A day, a week, a month, a year... they all count. So how much can a group of rag tag 4th graders from P.S. 118 change with junior high, high school, and a whole bunch of history between those seven years? A whole lot.

**Years Later**

_Hell, that Place on Earth_

_PART III_

Helga could not be to sure how long she and Stella sat— or a least in Stella's case, swung— in silence, but she did know that throughout that time Stella seemed to be in her own world.

Stella said absolutely nothing; she just kept pumping her petite legs, getting her swing to arch higher and higher into the night sky. After sometime, once Stella's feet touched the part of the sky where the moon would reappear in a few days, Stella stopped pumping her legs and her swing slowly, ever so slowly swayed until little by little its arch shrunk. Once the swing stopped, Stella turned her light blue gaze onto Helga.

Helga stared back.

"So," Stella began, tilting her head to the right. Helga could feel the weight of Stella's gaze. It was directed right at her. Helga G. Pataki was being analyzed and she knew exactly what was going to come out of Stella's mouth. It would be something about the case, of course, Helga just knew it would have to be about the case. Stella began to speak again, "Want to come over to my house and warm up? We have vanilla coffee and hot chocolate. Plus as warm as Arnold's sweatshirt may be, it really isn't that good of idea to stay outside in the cold too long if you don't have to. I remember when Miles wandered the neighborhood last— no it was two winters ago. He—"

Stella rambled on, telling the virtually deaf Helga a story about her husband and his sense of direction, or rather, his lack of sense of direction, but nowhere in the story did a court case pop up.

Absolutely nowhere.

When Stella laughed to herself as finished she regaling her tale she jumped out of her swing and walked over to Helga, holding out a gloved hand towards the blonde teenager.

Helga stared at it.

It really was a pretty glove, not it was a beautiful glove. It was a rather beautiful shade of blue, peacock blue to be exact. It was made out of leather and was trimmed with an olive green, grayish black and royal purple design that interestingly enough resembled a peacock's feather.

They looked rather warm.

Helga took that moment to stare at her own bare hands, hands that were clenched so tight around the cold metal links of the swing that Helga seemed to chocking them. As Helga stared at her hands she began feel how the frigid coldness from the swing was creeping from the swing, through her naked hands, and filling her body or maybe it was just the cold air that was doing that. Either way, it didn't matter. Helga was indeed very cold and she did indeed need a warm drink to rectify that problem.

And for those exact reasons Helga took Stella's resilient petite hand and allowed that very hand to guide her to 4040 Vineland Street. There were no words, at least no real ones in Helga's mind, instead Stella rambled on and on about silly stories about her family.

There was one about the Fourth of July, Thanksgiving they had three years ago where Gertrude Linshaw, simply known as Pookie or that crazy old lady down the block (usually only elementary school children called her that, everyone else knew she was the grandmother of _the_ Arnold H. Linshaw), put the turkey that Stella had bought for Thanksgiving, tied it to some fireworks and shot the hybrid turkey-fireworks into the air. And from that point on Stella cooked the Thanksgiving dinner, although she did comply with Pookie's Fourth of July theme.

Helga continued to listen to Stella's stories with ears that seemed to be stuffed with dough, the type of dough with so much water that it leaked everywhere, except in Helga's case, it seeped pass her ears and infused her brain. However to contrary popular belief, Helga was respectful to her elders, at least to most of them, so she simply let the older woman talk as she trailed behind her.

Barely ten minutes after Helga agreed to be dragged out of the P.S. 118 playground she found herself in front of the familiar shape of 4040 Vineland Street. Stella gave Helga a soft smile, as well as a not so gentle push into the family home that was once a boarder house filled with quirky residents that could only share one bathroom.

Inside of 4040 Vineland Street, Stella peeled her leather gloves off her hand and stuffed them into the pockets of coat before she returned said coat to the rack standing by the front door. Helga planted herself by the still open front door and said nothing to the older woman throughout the whole process. Stella gently closed the front door, only allowing a small '_tk'_ to resonate through the house before held up a finger to her mouth signaling for Helga to be quiet, which in reality, was not needed considering Helga obviously had already opted to take the silent route. After making sure that the door was securely locked and the alarm system was on, Stella motioned for Helga to follow her to the next room, presumably, that led to the kitchen.

Helga obliged without as much as a forethought.

They passed through the dining area before they reached the kitchen.

From what Helga could remember from the brief and few amount of times she had actually entered the Linshaw household, she could tell that the kitchen had been redone.

The walls were a light shade green, almost the same shade that seemed to be the eye color trait of the Linshaw family, while the boarder that topped the walls were simplistic paintings of a red apples, purple grapes, yellow bananas, and orange oranges, all bunched together in one group before it was repeated over and over again across the walls of the kitchen. The floor that had once been made out of wood had been replaced by cream colored tiles that had veins of light apricot and peach running through it. Even the square glass kitchenette set that Helga found herself sitting around, had not been there years ago.

Stella gave Helga a reassuring smile before she moved towards the stove; she paused for a moment and turned around to look at Helga. "Do you want coffee or hot chocolate Helga?"

Helga stared at Stella blankly for a moment before her mind registered what she had just been asked. "Umm… I'd like some coffee please."

For a moment, Helga did not even recognize her own voice. It sounded weak, it sounded strained, it sounded as if someone had finally decided to take her out of her misery and was slowly pressing their fingers around her neck, slowly squeezing her throat with their hands forcing all air tunnels to close, allowing no oxygen to reach her body, causing her voice to fail. In other words, she did not sound like Helga G. Pataki.

"Would you like milk in it?"

"No thank you."

Once again Helga could hear the voice that was not hers pass through her mouth and answer Stella's question.

"How about sugar, honey, or any sweetners?"

"No thank you, I just want it plain without anything in it."

It was then that Helga realized it would have been easier for to ask for the hot chocolate than the coffee.

Helga waited as Stella filled the coffee maker pot up with water before sitting it back in its nook. Only after she placed a filter filled with the home ground coffee beans did Stella turn the newly purchased coffee maker on. Once that Stella was assured that everything was working properly she moved to take the seat directly across from Helga.

Stella stared straight across the table and directly into Helga's eyes and Helga was forced to bow her head in order to avoid any eye contact with the brunette.

"So, do you mind telling me why you're wandering around the streets at," Stella looked down at the silver watch wrapped around her thin left wrist. "Three o'clock at night?"

"Would it be wrong of me to say no?" Helga asked the glass table, rather than Stella.

"Wrong, no, rude… yes. But either way it's your right to say whatever you want."

At that moment in time, Helga had to admit that Stella could be Bliss' rival any day.

"I'm in trouble."

"In trouble?"

Even though Helga could not see it she could hear it in Stella's voice, she could hear an eyebrow being raised in disbelief if to say, '_Again_?'

"Yes, again."

"What's wrong?"

Helga stayed silent.

"Well." Stella leaned over the glass table and rested her chin on top of her hand. "Did you know that I put myself through college?"

Helga shook her head.

"Yup. I worked every single day throughout my four years in college. I had no one there to help me. My mother was gone, my father was as good as gone, and don't even get me started on my older brothers and sisters." She rolled her eyes to ceiling. "So I could only depend on me to get anything done. Sure I had a few scholarships, but in the end they didn't really amount to much. I spent those for years juggling classes, schoolwork, three jobs, and sometimes even four jobs. I had a few people here and there that offered to help me out, but being the stubborn person that I am, I just couldn't accept their help."

It was at this point Helga realized where Stella's monologue was heading, it was heading at top speed to the land of moral lessons and themes, but Helga, being Helga, said nothing.

"And you know what Helga?"

"What?"

"After those four years, I was completely exhausted. I could barely function. I had to be sent away to a hospital to recover."

"Really."

"Really and after that I didn't learn my lesson. You see this kitchen. I did most of the work in here. I even re-did the cabinets by myself. And the border around the walls is hand painted because I really can't stand wall paper. But almost everything in this kitchen was done by me. And you know what?"

"What?"

"After I finished this project, I couldn't bring myself to finish all of the other projects I had started all around the house. I was completely exhausted."

"Really."

"Really. I'm sure you're getting the moral of my stories by now."

"Yup."

"So you realize that you need someone's help."

Helga looked up from the glass table. "No, I never said that."

"Yes, but it was implied. You don't look like you're in the healthiest of conditions and whatever trouble you so happen to be in won't help that."

Helga snorted. "So I really look that horrible."

Stella smiled. "No, I never said that."

"Yes, but it was implied."

"You're a smart kid."

"Thank you."

"Just like Arnold, except you're fortunate enough not to be stuck in the Hillwood football haze he's in."

It was Helga's turn to raise an eyebrow. "So you mean to tell me, you don't like Hillwood's preoccupation with football?"

"Preoccupation? It's an obsession. I grew up here, remember? I hated it all throughout high school; I was on the track team. The only thing that assures me that Arnold won't wind up to be a complete football obsessed Hillwood football crazed maniac is Miles."

"Miles?"

"Yea, he played on the junior and senior varsity football teams throughout junior high and high school." Stella continued to talk, not actually paying attention to the shocked look on Helga's face. "He was the quarterback and I could not stand him, but he didn't turn out that bad. It's only during the NFL season does… wait a minute you're trying to get me off topic, aren't you?"

Helga did not even have the shame to look abashed once Stella figured out her plan.

"Trust me; from one stubborn person to another, getting help from someone else isn't a bad thing."

Helga sighed, dropping her head into her folding arms resting on top of the table. "But I don't want to burden anyone."

"I'm here asking you to tell me, I'm giving you permission to burden me."

Helga looked into the pair of droopy light green eyes and her mouth moved on its own accord. It told Stella everything— from her trial to Principal McNielson's threat to her problem with finding a place to volunteer.

"Well," Stella said after took a moment to digest Helga's situation. "You do have quite a… a dilemma of sorts on your hands."

"That is an understatement, of sorts."

Once again, Stella could not help but smile. "Well, if you'd like, you can always volunteer at the daycare I run. The kids are bratty at times and a bit spoiled, but they're absolutely adorable and funny."

"Really," Helga lifted her head up from her arms and stuffed her hands inside the comfort of the sweatshirt's pouch. "You'd really let an arsonist work at your daycare?"

"As long as you don't torch my place, I don't have any problems. Plus you got off from those charges anyway."

Helga rubbed her cold hands together inside of the pouch and felt a piece of paper skim by her right hand. Helga saw Stella smiling at her with this motherly type look and she wanted to do the right thing and smile back at Stella, but she just couldn't bring herself to, so instead she thanked her.

"No problem. But you still have to figure out where you're going to live; McNielson isn't exactly going to let this go."

"How would do—"

"Remember I grow up around here."

"Oh."

"Do you have any family and friends around with an extra room?"

"Pheebs and Sid both have rooms set up for me waiting, but I just don't want to be a bother."

"So is there anyone else that could possibly help?"

Once again Helga felt something in the pouch skim past her hand, instead of ignoring the paper like she did the time before; she took it out of her pocket.

_Artemis J. Richardson, Attorney at Law_

_82 Mason Avenue_

_Upper Hillwood, New Jersey 08821_

_Office: (732) 521-8718_

_Fax: (732) 521-8719_

It was Arty's card.

"I think I have another person I could call. Can I please borrow your phone?"

"Sure." Stella looked a bit hesitant, but in the end brought Helga a cordless phone.

Reading the numbers on the back of the card, written in what seemed to be impeccably neat Catholic school cursive, she punched the phone number into the phone.

The phone rang.

After ringing for five times without an answer, Helga was ready to hang up the phone.

"_Hello_."

Even being woken up at three-something in the morning, Arty seemed to still be perfectly able to hold a conversation— her speech did not slur, her voice did not pitch, she sounded as if it were three in the afternoon, rather than the morning.

"_Hello, whoever this is, I hope you do realize that it's early in the morning and I'm not in the mood to play any games_." Arty sounded highly annoyed.

"Hel-hello Arty."

Stella stood up from the table and went to the coffee maker in order to finish the coffee she had promised Helga.

Arty sighed. "_Hello Helga. Please tell that if I turn on the television right now I won't see a live broadcast of you trying to escape the cops in a car case, because if I do I will hang up the phone right this instant and let you deal with the law all by yourself_."

"No. I'm not in trouble with the law."

"_Really_?" Needless to say, Arty was an extreme skeptic.

"Really. But I do need your help."

"_Really? Does it have anything to do with the law?_"

"No, but it does have to deal with my school."

"_Don't tell me you got into some horrible fight and you got expelled from the school_."

"No I haven't been expelled, but if I don't find a place to live I'll be transferred into another school."

"_So, what exactly do you want Helga Geraldine Pataki?_"

"I was… I was just wondering… if…"

"_If_?" Arty prompted and from the amused tone in the woman's voice, Helga got the distinct feeling that Arty knew exactly what she was going to ask. "_I'm waiting Helga_."

"Can I could stay at your house, just for a little while… _please_?"

"_Now, that wasn't so hard was it?_"

"Yes."

Arty ignored Helga's answer. "_Tell me where you are so I can pick you up_."

"I'm at 4040 Vineland Street in Hillwood, but my things are located at _The Pink Flamingo_."

Helga heard Arty scoff. "_Anything of yours that's in _The Pink Flamingo_ is going in the garbage now, but if, and only if, it is anything of utmost importance to you, it will be exterminated first before it enters my household._"

"Thank you Arty."

Arty snorted. "_You do realize that if you do plan on living with me, we are going to have many ground rules for you to follow_."

"I expected nothing less from you."

With another snort and a goodbye, Arty severed the line between her and Helga.

Stella placed a chocolate brown mug filled with the dark liquid known as coffee before she sat back down in her seat. Helga took her mug of coffee and took a sip.

"So?"

Nestling the mug her hands Helga gave Stella a small smile and even though it twisted in the wrong places and dipped in other and generally looked crooked and demented, Stella still appreciated it.

"Thank you."

**(Y/L)**

Sorry, but I still don't own Hey Arnold! I do own YL. But I do own the idea and concepts of YL, oh, and anything you recognize and think is not mine, is probably more often than not, not mine. Thank you Drucilla Black, Laurel, Justin T. Melanson, Laura, Bea, and Shadow Goddess Akhet for reviewing YL. It's been less than a month and I've updated, why the apocalypse must be near! Almost a month until I graduate, WOOT! I'll be back as soon as I can for another installment, just don't go thinking that everything is going to be sunshine and roses for everyone in the YL world, I still have a few ideas up my sleeves.

PS:

_Justin T. Melanson_, Yay, you're back! I'll check out those songs you suggested as soon as I can.

**Next Chapter:** _A Sense of…_

S.L. Cipher– The Queen of Eville (No this not a spelling mistake but a higher echelon of evil, look it up in _The New Cipher Dictionary of Cipherous Lexiconography_) who will gladly accept all criticisms, advice, reviews, praises, and flames with a large Cheshire Cat Smile. Why the Cheshire Cat Smile? Why, because Cheshire Cat Smiles will always piss people off and Cipher loves pissing people off because it is exceptional fun... Especially when they try and attack you. Which is exactly why when one wields the Cheshire Cat Smile it is important that they must also wield a mace and a sword.

('·.¸('·.¸··¸.·'´)¸.·'´)

«·´¨·The Cipher ·´¨·»

(¸.·'´(¸.·'´ ¨ '·.¸)'·.¸.)


	24. A Sense of I

Everyone changes with time. A day, a week, a month, a year... they all count. So how much can a group of rag tag 4th graders from P.S. 118 change with junior high, high school, and a whole bunch of history between those seven years? A whole lot.

**Years Later**

_A Sense of…_

_PART I_

Helga was not sure about what time Arty's sleek silver Rolls-Royce rolled up to the front of the Linshaw household, but by the time it did she was grateful. She had alternated between running up to the front widow for a peek of the silver car and weaving a precarious conversation with the half asleep Stella Linshaw, who had taken to dozing off every ten minutes or so.

Helga gave the older woman another glimpse of her rather flimsy, not to mention rather demented, smile before leaving the house, which Stella returned with her genuinely bright smile that lent Helga some comfort. A sliver of comfort to be truthful, but as the saying goes, something is always better than nothing.

"Don't forget to call me Friday after school so I can show you around the daycare and get you set up, okay?"

There were no words that Helga could actually vocalize to the woman who had basically given her back a direction to her life, or at least a semi-direction, so she simply nodded her head and said, "I have your number in my cellphone."

During the time that she had spent with Stella in the Linshaw household's kitchen, Helga had decided that Stella had moved past the associate on paper phone number and moved her up into the associate by cellphone number. Her husband, Miles, came downstairs to check up on his wife and her guest during the waiting time for Arty. He made them more coffee and poured them in new cups, washing out their old cups, before he kissed his wife on top of her head, murmuring something to her that was obviously meant for her ears only, and went back to bed, but not before sending a soft smile in Helga's direction.

Helga was getting this distinct impression from where the P.S. 118 version of Arnold H. Linshaw got his meddling, but kind personality from. Just being in the presence of one of his parents was enough of a clue, but to be in the company of them both, even if it were for mere minutes in Miles Linshaw's case, was a telltale sign.

With a final wave at the lethargic, heavy-lidded Stella Linshaw, who was steadily being guided into her house by the recently awoken Miles Linshaw, Helga silently settled herself into Arty's expensive car.

"I would say good evening," Arty began with a hint of a smirk on her smooth, sun-kissed apricot face, "But considering that the sun will be rising in a few hours, I'll stick with a good morning."

Helga looked over at Arty, noticing that the other blonde looked as put together in a pair of purple pajama pants and a white t-shirt, with her hair mussed from sleep as she did when she was in her professional uniform.

Helga could not help but be jealous of the older woman.

Arty raised an eyebrow at Helga over her sleek dark purple Armani glasses, after the younger blonde kept quiet, not even bothering to give Arty a sarcastic remark. "No answer, _hm_? That will do perfectly for me… a non-talking Helga G. Pataki… Now, non-speaking Helga, we're off to the _Pink Flamingo_, I suppose?"

Helga nodded a '_yes'_ and Arty immediately drove off in the direction of the much despised hotel.

It was about five o'clock when Arty's car parked in the brick driveway of a two story, brick front miniature mansion in Upper Hillwood.

Almost an hour ago, when they were at the hotel, Arty _advised_— read, ordered— Helga to leave behind all the extra clothing and things she did not want, as she, as in Arty, stayed in the parking lot. Artemis J. Richardson, née Marquis, refused to set one Manolo clad foot on the soiled ground of the _Pink Flamingo_. This _advice_ left Helga with one, little over a half filled, duffel bag and all three of her precious guitars.

Although she was a confessed shopaholic, extra clothes, Helga could live without, but her guitars were another thing.

After pulling into the driveway, Helga retrieved her things from the trunk that Arty had _advised_ Helga to put her things in and trailed behind the much taller woman as they entered the house through the two car side garage. The sound of Arty's three and a half inch heels clicked on the gray, paved garage floor, echoes bouncing off the walls as they passed two expensive cars sitting silently in said garage, gleaming from what appeared to be a new wax job.

Helga did not have enough time to stop and check out exactly what kind of cars they were, but from what she knew and saw of Artemis J. Richardson, she knew that they had to be expensive if Arty owned them.

They climbed a small staircase to exit the garage and enter the house, or rather the pocket sized mansion. From the looks of the enormous stainless steel washing machine and as equally large stainless steel dryer, the significantly larger than normal ironing board, oversized steam presser, and economy sized laundry products Helga realized that she was, obviously, in the laundry room. An Amazon's, or perhaps a giant's, laundry room, but a laundry room no less.

"Leave your things here, Alfie will…" Arty trailed off, sending her duffel bag a look of disgust. "_Clean_ them for you."

Helga arched a blonde eyebrow, "Alfie?"

"My butler, sometimes driver, semi-repair man, and all around house caretaker. His daughter Patrice works around here too. She's one of the two maids… She's about twenty… I think…" Arty's sentence trailed off as she tried to calculate the exact age of Patrice, _Alfie's_, no, Alfred's daughter.

Arty had a butler; somehow, Helga was not surprised. Having a butler seemed to fit Arty's image of wealthy heiress and lawyer extraordinaire perfectly.

As she laid her little belongings on the laundry room's polished white marble floor she mused on this Alfred, _Alfred the Butler_. Alfred was probably very proper, well-mannered, and skillful with a very posh English accent and dry wit to top of his character. Just like on the TV.

Helga smirked to herself at the thought of a black suit uniformed butler, '_pish posh'_ing around the house, with a '_cheerio'_ inserted here and there.

It was a funny thought… at least it was, in Helga's mind.

Arty did not question Helga's small smirk, instead she ignored it and led the younger female out of the laundry into a small back foyer that stood next to the large, stainless steel and brick, decorated kitchen. Standing in a black uniform, by the kitchen's island table was _Alfred the Butler_.

Arty led her to Alfred, standing her right in front of the older man, who had a black coif that was peppered with gray strands. "Helga, this is Alfred G. Cadbury, the house's caretaker." Arty said as she addressed Helga. "Alfie, this is Helga G. Pataki, our guest and my semi-protectorate." Arty said, addressing the butler.

"Hello, it is a _pleasure_ to meet you, Miss Pataki." Alfred said dryly, looking down at Helga with light brown eyes practically screaming of the same disdain his face held, holding out a white gloved hand to the teenager. But this disdain was not what Helga was concentrated on, no, instead she more focused on the fact that this older _gentleman_, did not only have on a black suit, he had very pronounced, very posh English accent. Helga stood there, staring blankly, just waiting to hear a '_pish_ _posh'_ or even a '_cheerio'_ come spouting of the tight-lipped mouth that was curved into a ever deepening frown.

None came.

After being stared at by both adults, she realized that she had failed to present herself in proper etiquette. She held out her hands, shaking Alfred's hand as the older man withdrew his own hand as quickly as possible. "It is a pleasure to meet you too, Alfred."

From the looks that Alfred was sending her way, Helga could guess that it was anything but a pleasure for him to be in her presence, but to be truthful, Helga did not actually care one single damn, or even two damns as a matter of fact, about what the older men thought of her. Ridicule from strangers was something Helga was quite used to.

"Would you like something to eat, Miss Pataki?" Alfred asked, eyeing the teen's gaunt figure, "Unless this is some new emaciated look you American teenagers are going for…?"

A veiled, dry insult.

Alfred G. Cadbury was fulfilling Helga's entire stereotype for a butler. Well mannered, dryly sarcastic, and English… Her life was gradually setting itself up, ready to dive right into the never ending, bottomless pit of cliché.

"No thank you Alfred, I would just like to go to sleep."

"_Really_, Miss Pataki?" He looked at the purple bags, nearly bruises, under her eyes.

Even more sarcasm, Alfred was on a roll… perhaps he was butter?

"Yes, thank you."

Arty, who had silently watched the exchange between her former warden and her new semi-ward in amusement, decided to intervene before anything could escalate too far. Leaving two highly sarcastic persons in one room too long could cause interesting, not to mention dangerous, reactions. "I'll take Helga to her new room Alfie, her things are in the laundry room and they need to be properly _cleaned_." She said, putting an extra emphasize on the word '_cleaned,' _she kissed the butler on his cheek, bade him a goodbye, and led Helga to the back staircase— a staircase that stood between the back foyer and kitchen area.

After reaching the top of the stairs, Arty pointed to a set of wide open, double doors standing next to the staircase.

"That," Arty said, gesturing to the room behind the open set of double doors. "Is my room, I have a set time to go to sleep, and a set time to wake up, don't wake me up any time in between, unless it's a emergency… this is one of my rules, and it's an important one."

With that said Arty continued to walk down the open hallway, passing three rooms with their doors wide open, giving Helga a glimpse at their design and decoration, passed the two story front foyer, as well as the two story family room, before they reached the end of the hallway.

Next to the front staircase of the miniature mansion was another door that obviously led to another room, and just like every other door, it was open. Arty reached into the room and flicked on a light, even though the slow rising sun was already shedding a few pale yellow-orange rays to partial light the room.

"This is your new room." Arty said gesturing to the earthy tone themed room. "There is a bathroom on the left and next to it is the walk in closet." She walked further into the room, opening up two doors, one revealing the bathroom, the other revealing the walk in closet.

Arty motioned to the bathroom. "Why don't you go and take a nice, relaxing shower… and leave your clothes out here, so that Alfie can wash them."

Helga threw Arty a questioning gaze and the older woman knew exactly what that look meant, and exactly what Helga was asking

"No worries, Alfie is used to this. He's been taking care of me since I was five and that was…" She hesitated for a moment, not actually wanting to reveal her age to Helga. "A _little_ while ago. Alfie's a professional at these things. I sometimes even send him out on a pad and tampon run for me, trust me, he's used to these things. "

Helga still looked hesitant, so Arty took the situation into her own hands, sometimes being physical was easier than trying to talking to a person, especially when they were as stubborn as Helga G. Pataki. Arty pushed Helga into the bathroom, closing the door separating her and Helga with the slam of the sierra painted door.

"Just take a shower," Arty said, speaking to Helga through the door. "You'll feel much better… and I'll find you some clothes for you to sleep in for the night. In the morning we'll discuss the house rules and go talk to your principal, McNealy, McNeill, or what ever that man's name is."

Arty left without really giving Helga a chance to actually voice her opinion, but that had clearly been Arty's plan.

Helga turned around and faced the princess sized bathroom, with a double sink, shower, as well as jet bathtub. She looked down at the pale tan colored marble tiles with veins of light brown and burgundy running through it, and then she looked up and caught her own dark blue eyes in the mirroring, seeing the same reflection she had seen in the Pink Flamingo's mirror for days. But, perhaps it was the pale light coming through the sun roof that gave Helga the extra, more detailed reflection of what seemed to be a not just a skeleton, but a skeleton's skeleton. Helga had become a basic frame, a frame that was meant for something to be built around, but she was lacking all those that made her body. She no longer had any muscles, and her skin had melted away, sinking and sagging into her body.

Her clothes looked ragged and they hung from her body, like men hanging from gallows, no longer having care and at the mercy of the elements around them.

Helga basically looked like a severely starved street urchin. Now she could see precisely why Alfred G. Cadbury looked upon her with thinly veiled contempt. It was pretty obvious why.

She looked back at the glass door of the shower, already set up with a sea green loofa and a matching, large towel right beside it, waiting by the shower. Deciding to follow Arty's instructions, she peeled off her _Pink Flamingo_ disease infected clothes, folding them neatly before poking her head outside of the bathroom into the room, _her room_, noticing that the door of the— _her room_ was closed. She placed the neatly folded clothes on the floor before she closed the bathroom door and hopped into the shower.

Using the loofa she scrubbed her body clean, she scrubbed so hard that when she came out of the shower and saw her reflection for the second time that early morning, she saw how pink and raw her skin looked. It was delicate from all that scrubbing, in fact it actually was stinging Helga, perhaps she should not have used that much hot water. Whatever the case was, her skin was sensitive.

Helga once again poked her head out of the bathroom into the— _her room_, seeing that the door was still closed. However her former clothes were gone and on top of the bed were a pair of pink pajama pants and a pink tank top waiting for her. She crept out the bathroom slowly, almost as if she expected someone or something to ambush her, but once she got to the bed, she quickly grabbed the clothes and got dressed. Hesitantly she climbed into the bed, underneath the warm, earth toned red down cover, resting her head on the plush pillows. For the first time in weeks, in more than a month, Helga could lie done in a bed and not feel that she was being infested by germs.

Needless to say, it was a good feeling… which explained why Helga fell asleep within minutes…

**(Y/L)**

Sorry, but I still don't own Hey Arnold! I do own YL. But I do own the idea and concepts of YL, oh, and anything you recognize and think is not mine, is probably more often than not, not mine. Thank you Justin T. Melanson, Drucilla Black, Luvya, Laurel, Demille, Shadow Goddess Akhet, DKB, Twilight Sazuka, OyoaOverson, Crystal949, Bea, and Tormented Urban Girl for reviewing YL, reviews really do help motivate a writer to produce another chapter for their audience. Now, you guys know I don't ask for much, but right now I'm going to ask for a little itsy-bitsy favor. At I have an original story up called So Much Space (http/ formerly Cut and Paste, it's under the same name, S.L. Cipher. I just want ya'll to check it out and tell me what you think. If you like YL, you'll like SMS, its starting off at a normal pace, but its going to have its dramatic turn in a few chapters, so please stay tuned for that… so to wrap this up… _PLEASE_ check it out for me, pretty please! As you can tell, I'm not above begging...

PS:

_Crystal949_, There are quite a few chapters left, this is going to go through the rest of their junior year _and_ their senior year… and a sequel is a strong possibility, I already have the plot in my head.

_Twilight Sazuka_, Thank you, but YL is littered with so many mistakes that no many how many times I edit each chapter, I will always find something wrong.

**Next Chapter:** _A Sense of… Part II_

S.L. Cipher– The Queen of Eville (No this not a spelling mistake but a higher echelon of evil, look it up in _The New Cipher Dictionary of Cipherous Lexiconography_) who will gladly accept all criticisms, advice, reviews, praises, and flames with a large Cheshire Cat Smile. Why the Cheshire Cat Smile? Why, because Cheshire Cat Smiles will always piss people off and Cipher loves pissing people off because it is exceptional fun... Especially when they try and attack you. Which is exactly why when one wields the Cheshire Cat Smile it is important that they must also wield a mace and a sword.

('·.¸('·.¸··¸.·'´)¸.·'´)

«·´¨·The Cipher ·´¨·»

(¸.·'´(¸.·'´ ¨ '·.¸)'·.¸.)


	25. A Sense of II

Everyone changes with time. A day, a week, a month, a year... they all count. So how much can a group of rag tag 4th graders from P.S. 118 change with junior high, high school, and a whole bunch of history between those seven years? A whole lot.

**Years Later**

_A Sense of…_

_PART II_

Waking up had never been one of Helga's strong suits…

Especially waking up on time.

That was one of the multitasking tasks that Helga had never really been completely good at. In fact the sixteen, nearly seventeen year old needed three alarms to wake her up on a normal weekday… six on a weekend. But this never guaranteed that she actually stayed awake after all of her alarms went through their two minute intervals and this, obviously, tended to cause her to be late for many things.

Sure she was alert to loud screams, yelling, arguments, phone calls, crying and such, but _alarm_ _clocks_?

Those just never seemed to work out for Helga G. Pataki.

So on that Friday morning that Helga woke up, snuggled deeply in a warm, not to mention non-germ infested bed, it was of no surprise that Helga fell back on her usual tardy habit. And when the fact that Helga did not have three alarms to wake her up was added to the situation, there was no real shock factor that Helga was indeed sleeping her way through the school day.

Stretching her arms over her head Helga rolled over on the large bed to take a glimpse at the clock on the nightstand.

Nine-fifty AM.

At least that was what the clock was telling her and if it was not lying, school had officially started two hours ago.

Helga realized that she really direly needed to get to school—Principal McNielson would want her head on a platter when he found out that she was skipping school… McNielson wanted her head on a platter period, this would just add to his bloodlust.

But Helga, being Helga G. Pataki the Second, ignored this fact, rolled over on her bed and went right back to sleep.

Having a warm and comfortable bed tended to do that to a person.

Plus Helga direly need to get more than three hours of sleep at night. The purple bags underneath her eyes, no matter what anyone else told her, Helga knew did not go with everything.

Two hours later, at nearly twelve o'clock in the afternoon Helga heard a rather polite, but at the same time rather pompous knock from outside the room.

How a knock could be presumed to be pompous was a rather difficult and long explanation and required many different samples of knocks to be used for analyzing, so in other words, Helga just knew how to tell a pompous type of knock when she heard one.

Ignoring the knock, Helga snuggled deeper into the bed, covering her head with pillow in the hopes that she could fall asleep again.

There was another knock at the door. "_Miss_ Pataki." A minute pause and then there was yet another knock filled of pompous. "_Miss_ Pataki, are you awake?"

Realizing that Sir Butler Alfred would not go away until she answered, Helga finally decided on responding with an interesting combination of a groan and grunt that said all in one that she was indeed awake and she was definitely not enjoying it.

"Good then. Miss Artemis requests that you join her for lunch immediately in the dining room." With that said Alfred slunk to wherever to do whatever he was doing before he was sent to wake Helga up as said teenager lied still in the bed.

Helga knew that she had to go eat breakfast with Arty, she really had no choice considering she was going to be living in her house for free, but that did not mean it was any less of a struggle for her to get out of the bed. Helga lied there in the bed for what seemed to be a full five minutes deciding on whether or not she was actually going to revive herself and eat breakfast with the master of the house or lie in bed until she dropped asleep. And it was about two minutes later when Helga actually made her decision, or rather Helga realized that if she did not get out of bed Sir Noble Butler Extraordinaire would come knocking on the door again and she would definitely not be getting any sleep.

Groaning, Helga slipped one bare foot out of the warmth of the down comforter letting it drop onto the floor. Soon enough the foot was followed by the other, which was then followed by two legs, then sure enough the rest of her body poured itself out of the rather comfortable, not to mention warm bed.

Not even bothering to look in the full length mirror, or the mirror above the dresser, Helga exited the room on unsteady feet; she did not need mirrors to tell her what she already knew.

Watery light blue eyes.

Purple, nearly black bags underneath watery blue eyes.

Dull blonde hair sticking up in every which direction that is known to man, and some that have yet to be discovered.

Pale, dull skin.

Skeletal body.

All in all, a rather unhealthy looking Helga Geraldine Pataki.

On lethargic, unsteady legs Helga gripped onto the banister and made her way down the staircase. Helga was not quite sure where the dinning room was but, fortunately enough, Helga was a rather smart girl and realized that the dining room was probably near the kitchen and fortunately for the already fortunately smart Helga, she remembered where the kitchen was.

Sure enough there was a doorway from the kitchen that led to the rather lavishly decorated dining room, and to Helga, it seemed that nothing done in this house was meant to be a small scale matter.

There in this room Arty was already seated at the head of the table with a china plate and silverware set in front of her as she flipped through the morning newspaper. Arty was looking at her finest, as usual, in another tailored suit, hair slicked back into a pristine bun, light make-up in place, and simple, yet expensive jewelry glittering in her ears and on her wrist.

Helga felt like crap just looking at the older woman.

"Don't just stand there, take a seat. Alfie is making us lunch." Arty did not even bother to raise an eye from her newspaper as she said this, gesturing to the seat next to her with a hand before returning said hand to steady her newspaper.

There were times when Helga really did think that the people in her life had psychic powers when it was in regards to her.

Slinking over in borrowed pink pajama set and bare feet, Helga sat in the seat on the right of Arty's seat where there was already a place set for her.

Five minutes later, with the room being filled with awkward kind of silence, Arty was finally done with the newspaper and she expertly folded the sheets of paper closed with practiced ease before setting it down on the table. "So, how did you enjoy your sleep Helga?" Arty asked with a manicured eyebrow raised over her Armani reading glasses.

Her eyes were directly focused on Helga, there was no escaping them and that made Helga rather uncomfortable. Helga was not one for the direct approach, at least when it came to matters dealing with herself.

"It was good." Helga told her plate, feeling more comfortable speaking to the glass object than the woman sitting next to her.

"That's good to hear." Arty eyes wandered to look at the view of her backyard through the wall to wall window directly across the large room. She took a sip of her cooled coffee, before setting it down to talk to Helga once again. "I hope you don't mind, but as we eat our lunch I want to set down a few ground rules and then afterwards we can go to your high school and talk to your principal. I'm sure he's shitting up a few bricks by now from your non-appearance in school if his personality hasn't changed from the last time I dealt with him during your junior high school years."

Helga smirked at her plate. "He hasn't changed much, the stick up his ass may have crawled up a few more inches, but other than that, nothing much has changed." Helga eyes wandered to the window to look at what seemed to be a pond in the backyard.

Arty _hmmphed_. "Well this exchange is sure to be even more so pleasant than our previous ones." Arty paused for a moment to refocus her eyes on Helga, whose eyes immediately dropped to the china plate. "And now for a few ground rules…" Arty picked up two slips of paper from off of the table that Helga had failed to acknowledge. They had looked like innocent pieces of paper to her, but now it seemed otherwise. Arty ticked off one finger on her left hand. "One, don't destroy my property, I paid a rather expensive decorator to put together all of these rooms and I rather not let my hundreds of thousands of dollars go to waste."

Arty ticked off two fingers on her left hand. "Two, none of your special parties, period. Small gatherings are allowed as long as you give some type of warning."

Finger number three. "Three you're allowed to have as many guests as you want as long as they are not disruptive or destructive. Four, you will keep your room as well as what ever area you are in neat, I don't care if I have a butler and maid, they are not here to keep cleaning up after slobs."

Finger number four. "Four, if you are going to stay in my house you have to maintain a B minus, C plus average." Arty saw Helga open her mouth to speak to the plate, rather than her, but cut her off. "I know your grades are not exactly at their best right now, but I'm confidant you'll pull them up. Plus, you got a bypass for your mid-terms, which you'll have to take next week, I believe… Now what number am I on again…?"

"Five."

Finger number five. "Oh yeah, five," Arty's eyes wandered to the fifth item on her list. "You are going to see a nutritionist and start doing some physical activity to get you back in shape."

Back to finger number one. "Six…"

Arty's list droned on and on, mostly after number five it dealt with Arty's rather peculiar inconsistent, consistencies that Arty wanted Helga to follow, like leaving her door open when she was not in the room. The most important rules were the five that were listed first. During the time that Arty talked about the remaining fifty odd rules, Alfred had already served them their lunch.

"And last but not least, you respect me and my privacy, I'll respect you and your privacy. Do you agree to the terms of your living conditions?"

"Yes."

Arty rolled her dark eyes, finally having enough of the Timid V2.0 of Helga G. Pataki. "You do realize that most people general answer the people that they are talking to by looking at them, or at least looking in their direction instead of pieces of china."

Helga hesitantly, ever so slowly raised her eyes, forcing her light blue eyes to meet Arty's darker set of eyes.

"So Helga G. Pataki, do we have an agreement?"

"Yes, Artemis J. Richardson."

"Good. Now hurry and get dressed, we have to catch your asshole of a principal before he kicks you out of school." With that said Arty got up from the table and left the dining room, leaving Helga at the table with her barely eaten, gone cold lunch sitting in front of her.

Minutes after Arty's departure from the dining room, Alfred entered and began to clean up the table, picking up Helga's plate from in front of her without even bothering to ask if she was done, even though Helga was not in the mood to eat another bite, it was the principle of the fact that he did not even bother to ask. "I do believe that Miss Artemis told you to get ready, _Miss_ Pataki."

If Helga were in her normal, prime non-sleepy mode she would have a few snippy comments to make at Sir Butler, but as the situation had it, Helga was not in said mode, so she said nothing. Instead Helga got up from her seat at the table and made her way to the room that had been dubbed as her own.

When Helga finally reached the room tucked in the corner of the house, Helga saw all of the possessions that Arty asked Helga to leave in the laundry room earlier in the morning. They had obviously been cleaned and disinfected and met Sir Butler Extraordinaire, Alfred G. Cadbury's standards.

As Helga went to take a shower, she finally realized how interesting it was going to be living with Artemis J. Richardson.

An hour later, Helga found herself walking through the crowded hallways of Crinshaw High School by Arty's side. It was the passing period right before the last class of the day, so everyone was still prepping for ninth period, gathering their books, and quickly talking to a few friends as Helga and Arty entered the high school.

Arty parted the crowd with the mere clicks of her stiletto heels, swaying her hips and stepping her feet to an unknown beat. The older woman inadvertently took over the school for those brief moments as she walked through the student ladden hallways. Helga had a feeling that Arty had always had this ability from the time she was a child, and once again, Helga was indeed jealous of the older woman.

Moments later, Helga found herself outside of the principal office as Arty headed inside to argue with McNielson about Helga's residence. She was brought into the room initially to tell McNielson that she had found a place to live and explained the situation to him, but once McNielson started to act as his usually self, Arty kindly asked Helga to leave.

And leave Helga did.

Helga knew better than to get in the way of Arty's work.

Helga sat in a rather uncomfortable plastic seat in the main office as the secretaries milled around her, every once in while sparing a moment to look at her as if she was a ticking time bomb.

And it was at these special moments when Helga wondered whether or not she was actually a bomb and if she were, she could not help but wonder when she would finally explode, or would she implode?

It took twenty minutes of arguing, ten minutes of cross referencing, and nearly fifteen minutes of phone calling before it was confirmed.

Helga residence at Arty's house in order to stay in Crinshaw was perfectly allowed and Helga was allowed to continue her education at Crinshaw High School. And by the time all of this confirming was finally, well for a lack of a better word, confirmed the final bell of the day had rung.

Helga watched as Arty and McNielson exited his office and shook hands, McNielson looking as if he had swallowed a live fish that was persistently flopping around in his stomach and Arty smiling as if she were the one who had slipped the live fish into his food.

"Have a good day Mr. McNiels."

McNielson frowned. "It's McNielson, Miss Richardson."

Arty contorted her face into a look of apology. "Oh, sorry Mr. McNickelson. I'm just glad that we were able to work everything through… I'm very glad that Helga will be able to continue her education at such a fine establishment."

McNielson's queasy look only seemed to get worse. "Me too, Miss Richardson."

"Good day, Mr. McNellison."

McNielson did not even bother to correct her; instead he bade his goodbye and slunk back into his office.

Arty smirked and moved to leave the main office, signaling Helga to follow her with a mere tilt of her head.

Once they were outside of the office, making their way to the parking lot, Arty spoke. "I dare say that, that man is not happy that you're still going to be attending school here."

Helga smirked, finally realizing how much she had gotten under McNielson's skin with this one simple incident. "He really doesn't like me much." She said as she trailed behind Arty, walking in the shadow of the path the older woman was creating as she swaggered through the hallways filled with students.

As they reached the exit of the building, Arty stopped short and Helga nearly walked into Arty's back.

Arty turned around to look at Helga. "I think you should stick around for a little while. You can call the house when you're done and I'll have Alfie pick you up."

Helga raised her eyebrow, not even bothering to voice the question that was already written on her face.

Arty used her head and gestured to outside of the high school building, where Helga could spot Phoebe and Sid standing by the bike rack through the door's window. Or rather, Phoebe was sitting on the bike rack and Sid was leaning against it, at any rate, the two were obviously waiting for someone, and that someone was obviously her, Helga G. Pataki.

Helga sighed and Arty awkwardly patted her shoulder. "It will only get better when you talk to them…" She smiled, not quite warmly, but it was a smile nonetheless. "See you later Helga. Don't forget to call."

With that said, Arty left the school building, leaving Helga to her own devices, waving a quick acknowledgement to Sid and Phoebe before getting into her car and driving away.

Arty was a very busy woman and she had other things that needed to be taken care of… after all, she did not make her fortune sitting around doing nothing.

Helga stood there for a few minutes, watching her friends through the sliver of a window as they waited by the bike racks. They were talking. She saw as Sid made one of his scrunched up faces, a telltale sign that he was making one of his corny jokes and watched Phoebe smirked in response, not really laughing considering the joke probably was not that funny.

They looked so alive and unbroken.

They looked the opposite of what Helga felt like.

But she knew on that no matter how well they looked on the inside, they were dealing with some issues themselves on the inside, even though it was not quite reflecting on the outside, like Helga.

All mental debates aside, Helga took a deep breath and walked out of the school building and walked towards her friends. In the end she had no real choice, it was not like she was going to turn around, walk to the opposite side of the school to get to the other exit just to avoid them.

They would find her eventually.

"Hey Helgs." It was Sid who acknowledged her first as she walked into their view; it was a very Sid like thing to do.

"Hey Siddy."

And there was quiet.

Helga ignored the fact that Sid had to elbow Phoebe before the petite half Asian, half Kentuckian female acknowledged Helga's presence.

"So what's going on Helga? All I heard was that you walked into the school with some business lady and were heading to the main office."

"Lots of things Sid."

Sid gave Helga a pointed look that spoke of his displeasure from Helga's answer. "Do you care to elaborate?"

"I wish I could, but I have to run off and catch up with someone."

Phoebe snorted, with her arms crossed over her chest. The waves of Phoebe anger were rolling Helga over and nearly drowning her.

"But I'll call you guys later tonight and we'll meet up tomorrow… sometime… okay?" Helga knew it was a far stretch to ask them to give her more time, but she did anyway… she just needed a little bit more time.

Sid nodded hesitantly, wanting to push, but at the same time knowing that this was basically as much as he was going to get out of Helga.

Phoebe said nothing and Helga knew she was in for hell when they finally sat down and talked.

"Bye." Helga said, more so directing it towards to the stoic looking Phoebe G. Heyerdahl.

Helga walked closer to Sid and awkwardly hugged Sid, planting a quick kiss on his cheek.

"Later Helgs. Don't forget to call." Sid said squeezing Helga closer in the hug before letting go.

Helga left to the two, continuing on her way, hearing a bit of argument starting as soon as she left, knowing that the 'her' and 'she' they were referring to was indeed her, Helga G. Pataki.

And so was Helga's life… she tended to cause a lot of trouble wherever she left… this was very much so evident in her junior high school years.

Helga continued to walk, and nearly three blocks later she found herself outside of a modest sized building on the aptly named Main Road. On 48 Main Road there was a bright sign with bright letters, decorated with flowers, rainbows, and stick figure children.

The sign was clearly for a daycare.

Especially since the sign clearly said, '_Abby's Daycare'_.

If that was not a sure enough, definite sign, then nothing was.

Helga had called Stella early, just after getting out of the shower, to let her know she would be coming by around three thirty.

Helga's cellphone told it was three nineteen, and for what ever neurotic strange reasoning, Helga sat outside in the cold waiting those eleven minutes to pass before she climbed up the three steps and rang the doorbell to let her presence be known.

Helga knew this was beyond neurotic, but there were some things about her behavior that was willing to part with quite yet.

**(Y/L)**

Nope I still don't own Hey Arnold! I do own YL. But I do own the idea and concepts of YL, oh, and anything you recognize and think is not mine, is probably more often than not, not mine. Oh wow, it's been FOUR MONTHS since my last update. Sorry guys, I would tell how crazy life has been, but I really don't want to bore you… So thank you Demile, Grumbles, Drucilla Black, Crystal 94, Prince Ahket, Twilight Sazuka, Lauralogan80, Ahhelga, and IndulgentWriter for reviewing YL, as I said before reviews really do help motivate a writer to keep on guys. Now, guys, I have been away for four whole months, but since I know you are all forgiving, I know you'll check out my original story on fictionpress, its called So Much Space (http // www . fictionpress . com / read . php ? storyid 2210969), just take out the spaces. It's under the same name, S.L. Cipher. I just want ya'll to check it out and tell me what you think. If you like YL, you'll like SMS, its starting off at a normal pace, but its going to have its dramatic turn in a few chapters, so please stay tuned for that… so to wrap this up… PLEASE check it out for me, pretty please!

PS:

_Grumbles_, I actually checked out that story and I really liked it, so thanks for letting me know about it.

_To all of my readers_, thanks for standing by patiently.

**Next Chapter:** _And There Was (Another Interlude of Sorts)_

S.L. Cipher– The Queen of Eville (No this not a spelling mistake but a higher echelon of evil, look it up in _The New Cipher Dictionary of Cipherous Lexiconography_) who will gladly accept all criticisms, advice, reviews, praises, and flames with a large Cheshire Cat Smile. Why the Cheshire Cat Smile? Why, because Cheshire Cat Smiles will always piss people off and Cipher loves pissing people off because it is exceptional fun... Especially when they try and attack you. Which is exactly why when one wields the Cheshire Cat Smile it is important that they must also wield a mace and a sword.

('·.¸('·.¸··¸.·'´)¸.·'´)

«·´¨·The Cipher ·´¨·»

(¸.·'´(¸.·'´ ¨ '·.¸)'·.¸.)


	26. And Then There Was

Everyone changes with time. A day, a week, a month, a year... they all count. So how much can a group of rag tag 4th graders from P.S. 118 change with junior high, high school, and a whole bunch of history between those seven years? A whole lot.

**Years Later**

_And Then There Was_

_(Another Interlude of Sorts)_

Gerard B. Garrison had seen many cases just like Helga's before. He had been a parole officer for ten years, and after all those years he had learned a lesson from case #0072, a poor kid who had just gotten out of juvenile prison for robbery and had a serious drug addiction.

Case #0072 had been amazingly smart kid who showed a promising future and back then when Gerard was young, and not to mention stupid, invested extra time in Case #0072 trying to help him along his recovery and advancement.

It was two months into his role as Case #0072's parole officer did he notice that money conveniently went missing from his wallet after every meeting with his parolee.

As it turned out Case #0072 was back to his old tricks and was stealing from him in order o get back into his normal fix, cocaine.

Only two months out and Case #0072 landed himself back in jail once again, except this time he turned eighteen in juvie and was transferred into the county jail… and Jonathan Christians became a case number to Gerard, just like all those who followed him. To Gerard there was no real point in learning their birth given names, they all wound up in the same places—in jail or in a cemetery buried under six feet of dirt.

None of these kids would ever change. They could change skins but deep down they were still all the same thieving, lying, manipulating menaces that found themselves under his warden ship before the police caught them and sent them his way.

Helga entered their designated meeting place of _Cocoa Café _nearly ten minutes early and took her seat across from the stern, graying man in the corner of the medium sized café.

She had not wanted to get out of bed that morning but knew she had to; it would do for her to miss her first parole meeting.

She didn't bother to care about her appearance, throwing on a sweatshirt, a pair of jeans, and a pair of ratty, old sneakers. She brushed her still dull blonde locks to a half hearted, hap hazardous ponytail, not even bothering to use makeup to cover her sleep induced bruises that laid underneath her eyes.

He did not even bother to look up from the manila folder he was examining, only sparing her a glance once he looked up to take a large gulp of his now lukewarm coffee.

"So…" Gerard searched the documents for a name. "_Miss_ Pataki, it seems that I'll be looking after you for eight months. It would seem that Judge Patton likes you."

Helga said nothing, knowing that it would be better for her to keep quiet.

Gerard finally looked up the manila folder and curled his lips in distaste as he looked at Helga. "So do you have a volunteer job _Miss _Pataki?"

Helga wanted to roll her eyes at the man, but knew better than that. This man held her freedom in the palms of his wrinkly, graying, old hands and there was no which way in hell was she going to mess with the freedom that she had been gifted.

Even if the guy was a jackass.

"Yes. It's at _Abby's Daycare _on 48 Main Road."

Gerard raised a single graying, bushy eyebrow, which in at least Helga's opinion, needed a good waxing and shaping. "Really," He drawled and continued to look at Helga in distaste. "Do you have any documents to prove this?"

Helga shifted around in her seat to pull out a few pieces of crumpled paper that Stella had given to her yesterday afternoon to give to her parole officer from the back pocket of her fading black jeans.

Wordlessly she handed Gerard the crumpled pieces of paper, not even bothering to straighten them to look semi-presentable.

Gerard curled lips lifted even more I distaste, but Helga ignored him, she only had to deal with him for a every week for a few months before she only had to deal with him once every few months before she didn't have to see him at all.

Gerard smoothed out the crinkled pieces of paper and skimmed his eyes over them before placing them in the manila folder. "So you'll be working for Mrs. Linshaw at her daycare?"

Helga was fairly sure that, that was obvious but nodded her head anyway.

"_Linshaw_, eh? She's Arnold Linshaw's mother isn't she… Miles' wife too, eh?"

This was when Helga G. Pataki realized that just like every other moronic soul in the district of Crinshaw High School, Gerard B. Garrison was obsessed with the Crinshaw Spartans' Football team.

_Just great._

Helga said nothing, instead she just waited for the man's dark blue eyes to snap out of his daydreaming, Spartans induced, daze.

Gerard cleared his throat and his dazed look disappeared. "So, _Miss _Pataki if I call up Mrs. Linshaw she will tell me that you are indeed volunteering at her daycare center?" He gave Helga skeptical look. After all, the teenager definitely didn't look like she should be working with children and thereby, shouldn't really be working at a daycare.

The teenager looked like she had been starved and hadn't slept for months; she probably scared kids more than she helped them.

Helga nodded her head. "Stella hired me for volunteer work yesterday afternoon."

Gerard raised an eyebrow at her familiarity with Stella A. Linshaw, but said nothing of it. "Well in that case we're done for today, we'll meet here same time next week unless I change it."

Helga nodded her head, noticing that Gerard left her no room to change the time or days of their weekly appointments.

"Good."

Without so much as a goodbye Gerard swept up from his chair and left _Cocoa Café _with his gray trench coat on and his manila folder in hand.

As soon as Gerard was out of sight Helga picked up her pink cellphone and pressed down the number two to speed dial Phoebe before connecting the call to her number four speed dial, Sid.

They had talked really quickly during school, chatting semi-easily, but not as comfortably as they used to. They skirted around what they really wanted to talk about—what exactly was going on in Helga's life.

They had come up with the generally consensus that once Helga was done with her parole officer meeting they would meet her wherever she was.

It only took five minutes for her to confirm the meeting place with her two best friends; they both said that they would get to the café in ten minutes or so.

That gave Helga ten minutes to prepare for the highly volatile mood Phoebe was bound to be in and get ready to answer Sid's million and one question. In general, Helga was preparing herself for a battle between herself and her two friends.

They would try to pry information out of her, and even if she did really want to give them any, Helga would vehemently hold onto as much information as she could.

Helga had always been a secretive person and she liked to keep aspects about herself strictly to herself, that's just they way she was. She allowed people to see only the amount she wanted to see, everything else she held for herself.

But even with those ten minutes, plus the five extra minutes for Phoebe having to argue with her mother to get out of the house, Helga really didn't actually prepare herself; she really wasn't in the mood.

Instead she ordered a plain cup of French vanilla and enjoyed, and being the considerate person that she was she ordered Phoebe a cup of double chocolate hot chocolate and got Sid coffee with mild and sugar added. She also ordered a plate of chocolate cookies for her friends, Helga didn't even bother to touch the cookies—she didn't have any appetite.

When Sid and Phoebe arrived at the café they easily spotted their blonde friend sitting in a corner booth that was situated across the room. It was funny how even without her radically pink or platinum dyed hair that Helga could easily be spotted in a busy area.

Wordlessly the two teenagers made their way to where Helga was sitting before plopping down across from the blonde, noticing that their respective drinks were already ordered for them and sitting on the table along with the full plate of chocolate cookies.

There was a quick, not to mention sort, choruses of hellos as Sid and Phoebe took their seats.

Sid needed no invitation as he chugged down his sugary coffee and dug into the plate of cookies, finishing half of the plate before Phoebe even reached for one.

Phoebe, on the other hand, stirred her hot chocolate, liberally taking sips as she munched on a single cookie.

After ten minutes but one of the chocolate chip cookies had disappeared and both Phoebe and Sid finished their respective beverages—Sid faster than Phoebe. It was then that Sid raised an eyebrow at Helga, not caring that he looked like a little kid with the crumbs of the cookie scattered across his cheeks. "So?"

He expected an answer and from what Helga saw on Phoebe's murderous looking face, Phoebe wanted answers as well, but Helga hesitated for a moment.

For a while she stared blankly at the two people she considered to be her best friends, contemplating how much she would, how much she could tell them.

"So Helga?" Phoebe asked, repeating the same unspoken question that Sid had previously asked with a glare locked in on Helga's position.

"I'm living with Arty now."

And so the game of twenty or so questions began.

"Why?" Sid asked as he took a napkin and swiped off the crumb littered across her face.

"Because if I stayed at _The Pink Flamingo_ McNielson said I wouldn't technically be in Crinshaw High School district any longer and I would have to transfer to another school."

Phoebe and Sid accepted her answer, not even bothering to heck for any validity; after all it would explain why Arty was at the school with Helga yesterday.

"So why didn't you tell us."

It was Phoebe's turn to ask a question.

"Because I didn't want to worry you guys."

Phoebe snorted. "So not answering any of our phone calls and having us check your room at _The Pink Flamingo_ empty doesn't worry us, right?"

"I was busy working things out with Stella." Helga said as her eyes wandered around the room before settling on gazing out the window as they unfocused.

There Helga dropped information for Phoebe and Sid to devour, but considering that Sid actually knew who Stella was, he was the one who took a bite and questioned her.

"Stella? As in Stella Linshaw? As in Arnold's mom?" The look on Sid's face was comical, and Helga was playing twenty or so questions with Phoebe and Sid, she definitely would have laughed at her friend.

Helga simply nodded, choosing not to elaborate, not until they asked the right questions.

Phoebe perked up at the mention of who exactly Stella was. "What were you doing with Arnold's mother?"

Helga shrugged. "Nothing really, she just gave me a volunteer job at her daycare. Nothing much other than that."

"Why is she helping you?"

And the game had shifted back to Sid, it was his turn to ask a question.

Helga shrugged once again, not really having an answer to Sid's question. "I dunno… I guess she pities me or something. She met me the night I burned down Bob's house."

Yet again, Helga dropped another piece of information for her friends.

They wanted the truth and that was what Helga was going to give them… even if it was in broken pieces.

"Really?" Sid looked surprised. "Where?"

"At _Rosedale_." Helga said, but then decided to elaborate even though she knew that both of them knew exactly _Rosedale_ was. "The cemetery."

For a brief moment there was no questions, just an awkward silence shared amongst friends as everyone in the café went on in their own worlds, as they clinked their plates with their utensils and called out for their servers, and munched on their food.

And just like that the game of twenty or so questions was dropped as Sid and Phoebe were satisfied enough by their interrogation and Helga's minimalist answers.

Sid smiled as he remembered where Helga would be volunteering. "So working at a daycare, eh?"

Helga nodded.

"And here I thought you said that little children were demons."

The corners of Helga's lips tugged upwards, but just slightly though. "Oh, but they are, but I think I can tolerate them for a few months."

Phoebe smirked as she waved over their waitress to get her hot chocolate refilled. "So you say now, but I give you a week before they start to get to you. And two weeks before they actually drive you up a wall… and three weeks before you start contemplating murder."

The murderous look on Phoebe's face had all but disappeared.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the three friends settled into an easy conversation that lasted half an hour before they caught the murderous looks that their waitress was giving them, the longer they sat there, the more tips she lost out on.

They all smirked at Tracee, their waitress, as they continued to talk for another half an hour.

Once they were finally done talking, invisibly patching up the troubles in their friendship, they left and went their separate ways—Phoebe and Sid back to their respective houses, while Helga sat outside of the café waiting for Alfred to pick her up.

Nearly fifteen minutes later a black Bentley town car rolled up beside the sidewalk.

Smoothly, Alfred got out of the car and opened the back seat door in front of Helga, all the while still frowning.

"Do get in _Miss_ Pataki, the longer you stay out in this ghastly weather, the more likely you are to get a cold."

Helga wanted to raise her eyebrow at Alfred's _ghastly weather_ comment. Although there were still remnants of deep winter, the spring was nearing and the air was definitely starting to warm.

But Helga knew better than to say anything, instead she silently slipped into the town car right before Alfred closed the door behind her.

The ride to Arty's house on the other side of Hillwood was silent with Helga's only entertainment being the window that she stared out of as scenery passed by.

Once Alfred pulled up to Arty's house, Helga's foster home of sorts, Alfred rushed over to her door, very smoothly albeit, and opened it for her.

As Helga climbed out Alfred relayed a message to her, Arty was expecting her in her office as soon as she got back.

Helga thanked Alfred before walking into the house and wandering into Arty's office on the first floor.

The older blonde woman was deeply concentrated in her work, as her purple Armani glasses slipped down her nose as she looked through her documents, files, and manila folders that were taking up most of the space of her large desk.

Helga stood by the door, wondering if she should disturb Arty or go back to her room and talk to the other blonde later, but Arty quickly solved Helga's dilemma by signaling Helga to sit with a wave of a delicate hand.

Arty continued to look through her documents as Helga threw down her backpack onto the oriental carpet and tried to get comfortable in one of the two _'client' _leather chairs that sat in front of Arty's desk.

It wasn't that the chair wasn't comfortable, in fact it was soft and firm enough for any person to settle in and doze off, but the situation itself for Helga wasn't comfortable.

Since Arty had stormed the hallways of Crinshaw High School yesterday Helga had not seen a blonde strand or expensively clad foot from the older woman.

According to what information Helga was able to get out of Alfred last night when the butler had served her dinner around the island in the kitchen, Arty had to go deal with a highly temperamental, highly important client who she was hired to help gain nearly millions dollars from the husband she was divorcing.

According to Alfred, this was not the first, second, third, or even fourth time that Arty was handling said client's multi-million dollar divorce.

After cleared up what ever she going through in her documents, she looked up and pushed her Armani glasses up her nose. "So how was your meeting with Mr. Garrison?"

Helga shrugged; it was her new thing nowadays. "Interesting to say the least."

Arty smirked at the understatement. "Yes well, Garrison has always been a hard person to get along with." Arty opened one of the wooden draws of her oak desk and filtered threw a few papers before she pulled out a business card and two pamphlets. She pushed them across the table to lie innocently in front of Helga. "I did a little research and poking around today when I had some free time."

Helga said nothing—she only stared at the papers in front of her.

Seeing that Helga was definitely not going to help along the conversation, Arty continued to talk. "You have an appointment with a nutritionist tomorrow and right afterwards you'll be seeing Bliss to begin your weekly appointments. You'll be starting boxing lessons after you finish your midterms next week… which you should probably start studying for… maybe call up your friends to help you… from what I hear your friend Phoebe is ranked as number one in your class with no competition."

Helga slowly reached for the documents that Arty had provided for her and placed them in her lap. "Thanks."

It was a rather weak _'thanks'_ to Helga's ears, but it was sincere.

Arty nodded to acknowledge Helga's '_thanks'_. "The appointment is at nine-thirty, Alfie will drive you."

Helga nodded, even with only one day living in Arty's house, she was getting used to the general flow—_Alfie_, no make that Alfred the Butler was basically the chauffeur extraordinaire.

"Okay."

"Well then, you should probably head into the kitchen, Alfie made chicken pot pie for dinner tonight with cheesecake for dessert."

And that was Helga's dismissal.

Helga gave Arty another sincere, yet weak sounding _'thanks'_ and the blonde waved it off with a flick of her delicate, manicured hands as she went back to the papers, files, and manila folders littered across her large oak desk.

**(Y/L)**

Nope I still don't own Hey Arnold! But I do own YL. And anything you recognize and think is not mine, is probably more often than not, not mine. Oh wow, it's been another FOUR MONTHS since my last update. Sorry guys, college, homework, and college life is pretty distracting… but thank you Crystal949 for reviewing, the only that reviewed much to my chagrin (are you guys really that mad at me?). Crystal949 your review as actually what got me writing again, in fact chapters 27 and 28 are already basically writing themselves right now. They'll be up soon, I promise, promise.

PS:

_To all of my readers_, thanks for standing by patiently, once again. Oh and I do want to let everyone know that I will have a new story up on fictionpress soon. It will have some similarities with YL considering that YL actually borrows a good few ideas from the story, but it will have its differences, a lot in fact. Check for in a few days, if you're interested in seeing exactly where YL comes from. And please do excuse the rough edges around YL, if there are any mistakes, grammar, spelling, or anything else, please let me know. And if any of you know a really good editor out there interested in editing my stories, please let me know.

**Next Chapter:** _And the Return of the Prodigal Son_

S.L. Cipher– The Queen of Eville (No this not a spelling mistake but a higher echelon of evil, look it up in _The New Cipher Dictionary of Cipherous Lexiconography_) who will gladly accept all criticisms, advice, reviews, praises, and flames with a large Cheshire Cat Smile. Why the Cheshire Cat Smile? Why, because Cheshire Cat Smiles will always piss people off and Cipher loves pissing people off because it is exceptional fun... Especially when they try and attack you. Which is exactly why when one wields the Cheshire Cat Smile it is important that they must also wield a mace and a sword.

('·.¸('·.¸··¸.·'´)¸.·'´)

«·´¨·The Cipher ·´¨·»

(¸.·'´(¸.·'´ ¨ '·.¸)'·.¸.)


	27. And the Return of the Prodigal Son

Everyone changes with time. A day, a week, a month, a year... they all count. So how much can a group of rag tag 4th graders from P.S. 118 change with junior high, high school, and a whole bunch of history between those seven years? A whole lot.

**Years Later**

_And the Return of the Prodigal One_

Helga's life had, had it periodic ups and downs just like everyone else's lives, except her ups and downs tended to be a bit more drastic than others.

For now, her life was climbing from one of those low downs, recovering from the past few months—_her _death, the fight, the burning down of her childhood home, the court case, and just the general stress that McNielson brought along with him.

She had fully made up with Sid and Phoebe and as a result they usually found themselves hanging around Helga's new residence in Arty's home in Upper Hillwood. It was their usually stuff—movies, music, and madness.

They just tip toed around the topic of _Princess Powder Puff _and Helga's guitars, all three of which were slowly collecting dust on the top shelf of the bare walk-in closet connected to her room. Helga was fairly sure that they were already beginning to get out of tune. She hadn't played them for months and had no real desire to. In fact, if it weren't for the fact that she loved them so much, she would have trashed them.

Phoebe also helped Helga study for the midterms that Helga had missed and were taking late.

While her grades for them weren't exactly spectacular, Helga managed to pull a b-minus average from all of her test—it was a regular miracle on forty second street.

Helga's grades in generally were slowly, ever so slowly beginning to pick up, which meant she was going to pass her junior year, not with flying colors, but she would at least be on the right track to graduating with her actual class.

Her job at _Abby's Daycare_ was very interesting—she later found out, after two full weeks of working there that Abigail was Stella's middle name.

The daycare opened at six-thirty a.m. sharp every Monday to Friday and closed at seven-thirty at night, even though the kids were basically all gone by seven o'clock the latest. The last half an hour was spent cleaning up the individual rooms—mopping, sweeping, and vacuuming—taking out the garbage, cleaning the bathrooms, and cleaning the kitchen.

With everyone working together, everyone generally left by seven-forty, and by seven thirty-five Helga could spot the black Bentley town car sitting outside waiting for her from the windows of the front room.

The daycare housed cute as buttons six month old infants to snotty, bratty sixth graders who were obsessed with the latest anime that came straight from Japan.

Helga had to admit even though the kids were bratty at times, no make that most of the times, they were fun to be around and they could definitely make her laugh after being put through a ringer at school—some people, like one Thaddeus "Curly" Gammelthorpe, Sheena Smithe and countless others begging Helga to take back the reigns as _Sparta_'s chief editor, including the acting chief editor, Phoebe G. Heyerdahl.

The others that were around her age working at the daycare were generally older versions of the snotty, bratty kids that they were supposed to be taking care of. The older women who were the teachers were a lot less bratty, in fact, she got along with them better than the younger teachers and teacher assistants.

Generally, Helga hung out around Stella whenever she had a break and the older woman talked to her about everything and nothing.

There was just something about Stella that was comforting.

As a result of Helga skulking around Stella, she found out that the older woman was expecting a new addition to the Linshaw household in seven and a half months.

She worked, or rather, volunteered on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays.

Helga's Wednesdays had her weekly appointment with Bliss and her boxing lessons with Christopher B. Blake while her Friday consisted of her weekly meeting with Garrison and hanging out with Phoebe and Sid, of course.

She rarely saw Arty, even at dinner time. The older blonde was still involved in the divorce case—even though divorce wasn't Arty's specialty per se.

For the most part if the older blonde wasn't around Helga found herself eating at the island table in the kitchen with Patrice as her company.

For the first few days, Patrice had not been around for Helga's settling into Arty's home, she was on vacation, but when she got back the older woman immediately took a liking to Helga, very much so unlike her father.

Patrice had a very quirky personality and always had something amusing to say, at least in Helga's mind.

Needless to say, most of the time Helga found herself eating Alfred's elaborately prepared dinners in the kitchen, if she was not hanging out in Phoebe's or Sid's house, eating their food or fast food.

And as a rule Arty said that there was no smoking allowed inside of the house, so Helga generally walked out of the kitchen's sliding backdoor to the backyard to enjoy her cigarette or opened the window and screen in her room, and leaned outside to smoke.

Alfred continued to dislike Helga, but kept on picking her up, dropping her off, cooking for her, and cleaning up after her and in return Helga tried to stay out of his way as much as possible, trying to be as little as a burden as she could manage.

Helga weekends were jammed with what ever homework she did not manage to do during the week, more bonding time with her best friends, boxing lessons with Christopher Blake, and lots and lots of sleep.

She hadn't heard from Ian who was still traipsing across the globe being the herbology geek that he really was underneath his leather pants and leather jacket, but she blamed that on the fact that 1422 L Street technically didn't exist anymore.

Stella often tried to convince her to come over to 4040 Vineland Street on the excuses of baking cookies, baking a cake, or even start putting together one of the spare rooms in the house together for the baby that she hadn't actually told her husband or son about, although Stella knew her husband had already had an inkling.

Helga continued to decline politely, finding nearly every plausible excuse in the unwritten book of excuses to use—_homework, sleep, prior engagements, dealing with parole officers, etc_.

At any rate, Stella kept on trying.

And Helga kept on declining.

A few weeks into March, Helga found herself ordering her usual large cup of French Vanilla coffee at _Cocoa Café _while Alfred waited outside in the town car to take her back to Upper Hillwood after her long day at work on a Thursday afternoon when she had her first sighting.

While walking towards the exit Helga could have swore she saw _his_ chiseled face, with _his_ dizzying gray eyes, and ink black locks, all of which were common traits that could be found on anyone. But what really got Helga alarmed were the tattooed black ring around the guy's middle finger on _his_ left hand and the gold ring with the telltale Nikolai insignia—a gold Phoenix on top of obsidian wrapped around elaborate _'N'—_on the ring finger of his right hand.

Helga quickened her pace, calmly leaving the café before she slipped into the awaiting town car, once safely inside the town car, Helga proceeded to freak out.

There was no way in hell _he_ was back.

_He_ was supposed to be looking over one of his father's companies all the way in California, all the way on the _**other**_ side of the continent, where _he_ could easily mess around with the scantily clad women on the sunny beaches, not back in Hillwood where _he_ could easily mess around with _her_ mind.

Helga tried to voice these concerns to Bliss during her next therapy session.

"Do you think _he_ still has that same effect on you like _he_ did back in junior high?" Bliss asked in her comfy looking leather chair.

"No." Helga said, not believing what she said.

She knew she was lying.

Bliss knew she was lying, all of Hillwood knew she was lying, in fact, all of the United States of America knew she was lying —probably even parts of Eurasia knew she was lying too— and _he_ was probably laughing up a storm at the outright, bull-faced lie. But maybe if Helga lied to herself enough she would believe it to be true and it would come true…

But Helga really wasn't that much of an optimist.

Bliss said nothing for a moment, but wrote something down in her damnable notebook that she was always scribbling in during their sessions. In Helga's mind, Bliss was actually playing a solitary game of tic-tac-toe and she only brought out her notebook to look more professional and intimidating.

"Really?" Bliss finally said after she finished writing what ever it was that seemed to interest her moments ago, or beat herself once again in a game of solo tic-tac-toe, what ever the case was.

Evidently, just as Helga thought, it would seem that Bliss didn't believe her either.

They both knew she was lying and there inlaid the problem.

Helga then voiced her concerns to Phoebe during lunch when Sid had been called away to _'The Golden Ones'_ table to discuss some football tournament related things.

All Phoebe did was give Helga the look and told her to stay away from _him,_ reminding her how unhealthy _he_ was for her,before Sid returned and their conversation floated into what they were going do that weekend.

Yet even with all of their plans, that weekend Helga found herself in one of the empty rooms of 4040 Vineland Drive—the former site of _Sunset Arms_—priming the walls with white. Somehow after weeks of asking, Stella had finally broken Helga down into agreeing to come over and helping her paint.

The woman nothing short of persistent.

Evidently Stella had broken the news to her husband and son, who told her husband's parents, all of whom were very excited to hear about the new addition to the family.

Stella had just left to take a bathroom break and go scrounge up a few snacks when her son walked into the room wearing a ratty pair of jeans, a slightly ripped white t-shirt, and pair of old sneakers—he looked nothing like he typically did in the hallways of Crinshaw High School.

Helga said nothing as she dipped her roller brush into the white paint and rolled more white onto the wall to cover the hunter green colored walls.

Arnold took up the roller brush and paint tin that his mother abandoned and began to work on his own wall on the opposite side of the room of Helga's.

And then there was quiet, with the clinking of the brushes hitting the tin being the only real sound in the room.

"You're looking healthier." Arnold said as he continued to paint his wall, not even turning a green eye from his job.

Helga didn't bother to look up from her job either. "Thanks."

It would seem that Helga's '_thanks'_, even though it was rather caustic and insincere sounding, was the signal for Arnold to start talking to Helga.

"How do you like the daycare?"

"It's alright. It has its moments."

Arnold smirked and for what ever reason, Helga could actually hear the smirk coming through in his voice. "So I'm guessing you've already had a few run ins with Jess, _hm_? She's _interesting_ to be around…"

Jessica Robson was on the assistant teachers at Stella's daycare and to say she was an understatement, to say she was a flat out bitch, was just as much as an understatement. She caused enough drama in a regular day at the daycare to last a soap opera for a month. Jess was the leader of the teacher assistant clique, so needless to say, if she didn't like a person the rest of the clique didn't them either.

The reason Stella hadn't fired Jess after all the drama she caused was because one, all the kids adored her, which was quite an enigma in Helga's mind, and two, after working at the daycare for the last four years all the parents knew her and adored her.

Plus Stella really didn't have the heart to fire the twenty-one year old.

Helga smiled at Arnold's understatement of sorts but kept working on her paint. "Yea, it seems that she doesn't like me much."

"She doesn't like people in general."

Then there was another bout of silence as Helga and Arnold let the conversation drift away as they continued working, at least there was silence until there was a _'splot'_ noise as Arnold's brush slipped from his hand and splattered into the paint tin.

"Shit."

Helga was a curious person by nature and after hearing Arnold's mini exclamation she could help but turn around to see what had happened and found a rather amusing scene.

Somehow by dropping the brush Arnold managed to get large blotches of white paint on his jeans and on his arms. There were smaller blotches littered across his face and neck as well as in his light blonde hair.

The blonde had this look that was a cross between bewilderment and annoyance.

He reminded Helga of the little kids at the daycare after they massacred the sandbox and wound up with sand tucked into every nook and cranny on their persons, not understanding exactly how that happened and Helga could not help but smirk at the picture he made. She held back her laughter as best as she could, but a few snickers did escape her lips and soon enough she found a pair of brilliant green eyes narrowed, glaring at her.

Now Arnold definitely looked like one of the kids at the daycare with that glare and his face splattered with white paint, and that led to a full out laugh escaping Helga's mouth, but she tried to smother it with her hand.

That really didn't work out very well and Helga's laugh could clearly be heard, even from behind her hand.

Arnold gave up on glaring at Helga and rolled his eyes, turning his attention to wiping the paint off of his face with the little dry, paint free areas that he could find on his ratty t-shirt, but all it was helping to do was smudge the white paint across his face.

Helga laughed even harder and gave up on trying to hide her amusement. She let her brush land on the floor, clear out of the way of her own paint tin, clutched onto her stomach, and leaned against the newly painted walls for support without realizing it.

It was that moment that Stella walked into the room in her long sleeved t-shirt with her ratty pair of overalls over it with a plate of brownies in one hand, and napkins in the other.

She paused in the doorway and looked at the scene before her eyes, not sure what to address first, Helga obviously messing up her black shirt with the fresh paint on the walls, albeit it was an old looking shirt that was nearly gray, or her son that was making a mess of himself.

Stella sat the brownies and most of the napkins down of the blanket covered floor before walking over to her son with a quick '_Arnie_!', which caused Helga to laugh even harder.

In face the blonde was bound to stop breathing at any moment if she kept laughing as hard as she was.

Stella took the napkins and helped her much taller son clean up his face as much she could before leaving to get a wet dish cloth to further clean Arnold up. As she passed to leave she pulled Helga off of the wall, bewildering the blonde, but not stopping her laughter at all.

Arnold caught a glimpse at the back of Helga's shirt and smirked at the other blonde.

And that's what stopped Helga's laughing, she really didn't like the way Arnold was smirking at her.

"What are you smirking at _Football Head_?" Helga asked throwing in the old _beloved_ nickname for an extra boost, even though Arnold's head was no longer the same football headed shape.

Arnold smirk remained.

"What?"

Arnold walked over to Helga, smirk still on his face, and pulled on Helga's shirt and even though she smacked at his hands he still pulled at it until Helga could see the state of the back of her shirt and at which time there was only one thing for her to say.

"_Shit_."

And then it was Arnold's turn to laugh.

An hour later, Helga left the Linshaw household in her newly _decorated_ shirt and headed to the _Cocoa Café_ to get a cup of coffee before calling Alfred to pick her up.

She had been on the long line at the café for a few minutes for she had her second spotting of _him_, _he_ was at the register paying for _his_ own coffee, and was turning around to leave and Helga panicked.

She didn't want to see _him_ and she definitely didn't want to see _him_ in the messy state that she was in. There were a few specks of dried up white paint in her hair, clumping the blonde locks together—she would really have to deeply wash her hair later—and then there were the few speck of paint littered across her face and hands.

She quickly got out of line and moved to leave the café before he noticed, maybe she could duck into a store until the coast was clear before going back to get her coffee.

It was too bad that by leaving the line she made herself even more noticeable.

Just as she moved to open the door she heard _his_ familiar smooth voice call out her name and she froze.

Soon enough she saw _his_ left hand cover her own, the one that was supposed to open the door and help her escape.

She looked at the familiar tattoo of a simple braided _'ring'_ on the middle finger of _his_ pale, deceptively delicate looking left hand that she knew was very strong.

"_Helga."_ He said again, but she knew from the undertones in _his_ voice that _he_ was ordering her to turn around and she really didn't want to.

That was just the way _he_ was, _he_ liked to be in control of everything in _his_ life.

_He_ called Helga's name again using that silky smooth voice of _his_ that always seemed to convince Helga to do almost anything _he_ said.

_He_ was a rather manipulative bastard.

Helga took a deep breath and turned around to face _him_.

_He_ smiled, knowing that _he_ won the first battle and Helga immediately knew she should have kept herself in line or walked out of the café door a while ago without even bothering to respond to _him_ calling her name.

"…Hi… Tristan."

"Hello, Hel_ga_." Tristan V. Nikolais said again in his very silky voice with his damnable devil-may-care smile placed on his all too perfect face as he looked at her.

Helga immediately knew that she was beyond screwed.

**(Y/L)**

Sorry, but I still don't own Hey Arnold! I do own YL. But I do own the idea and concepts of YL, oh, and anything you recognize and think is not mine, is probably more often than not, not mine. Thank you Justin T. Melanson, Drucilla Black, Luvya, Laurel, Demille, Shadow Goddess Akhet, DKB, Twilight Sazuka, OyoaOverson, Crystal949, Bea, and Tormented Urban Girl for reviewing YL, reviews really do help motivate a writer to produce another chapter for their audience. Now, you guys know I don't ask for much, but right now I'm going to ask for a little itsy-bitsy favor. At I have an original story up called So Much Space ( formerly Cut and Paste, it's under the same name, S.L. Cipher. I just want ya'll to check it out and tell me what you think. If you like YL, you'll like SMS, its starting off at a normal pace, but its going to have its dramatic turn in a few chapters, so please stay tuned for that… so to wrap this up… PLEASE check it out for me, pretty please!

PS:

_Crystal949_, There are quite a few chapters left, this is going to go through the rest of their junior year _and_ their senior year… and a sequel is a strong possibility, I already have the plot in my head.

_Twilight Sazuka_, Thank you, but YL is littered with so many mistakes that no many how many times I edit each chapter, I will always find something wrong.

**Next Chapter** _The Sun King_

S.L. Cipher– The Queen of Eville (No this not a spelling mistake but a higher echelon of evil, look it up in _The New Cipher Dictionary of Cipherous Lexiconography_) who will gladly accept all criticisms, advice, reviews, praises, and flames with a large Cheshire Cat Smile. Why the Cheshire Cat Smile? Why, because Cheshire Cat Smiles will always piss people off and Cipher loves pissing people off because it is exceptional fun... Especially when they try and attack you. Which is exactly why when one wields the Cheshire Cat Smile it is important that they must also wield a mace and a sword.

('·.¸('·.¸··¸.·'´)¸.·'´)

«·´¨·The Cipher ·´¨·»

(¸.·'´(¸.·'´ ¨ '·.¸)'·.¸.)


	28. The Sun King

Everyone changes with time. A day, a week, a month, a year... they all count. So how much can a group of rag tag 4th graders from P.S. 118 change with junior high, high school, and a whole bunch of history between those seven years? A whole lot.

**Years Later**

_The Sun King_

Tristan's face brightened and as a special treat he awarded Helga one of his dazzling smiles that she knew for a fact he reserved especially to charm the pants off of people…literally. And it was for that moment that Helga looked at Tristan V. Nikolais—the once and former Sun King of E.V. Wayside High School— as he amazed her with his over the top glamour and glory and she couldn't breathe.

She just couldn't, and wouldn't dare to breathe—this was very much so a problem.

One would think that after not being around him at all for one year, and not spending too much time around him for two years that his usually techniques would no longer work, but it would seem that he had fine tuned his techniques and they were stronger than ever.

This was very much so a problem for Helga G. Pataki.

"How about we sit down for a while and catch up?" His perfectly shape mouth was asking the question but his gray eyes were telling, no ordering Helga to sit down and talk to him, whether she wanted to or not. So Helga did the only thing that she could in her situation—she nodded her head in agreement.

Tristan's smile remained and, coincidentally enough, he led her to the very same seat that she took where she had her weekly meetings with Garrison.

"So, how are you Helga Geraldine?"

Helga usually cringed whenever someone said her middle name, but for whatever reason Tristan loved calling her by her first and middle name and as a result, she was desensitized to her horrid middle name, at least around him. She used to ask why he insisted on calling her by her god forsaken middle name, but he never gave her a straight answer…so eventually Helga gave up asking.

That was in seventh grade, when he was in ninth grade.

It was only after a few months of knowing him that Helga came to realize that Tristan V. Nikolais never gave a straight answer, that he liked two olives in his martinis—not one—and that he liked to be in control of absolutely everything in his life.

Helga picked up on things rather quickly.

"I was doing well before I saw you." Helga answered truthfully as she tried to get her mind together. She already lost their first battle when she allowed him to drag her to the one of the café booths to talk. Now came Helga's next challenge, the second battle, and Helga was not going to lose to Tristan again.

He tipped back his ink black haired head and laughed, his perfectly white teeth flashed at Helga.

He was in a good mood which meant he had definitely dipped into his alcohol supply before coming to the café. Another thing Helga had learned about Tristan was that he was only in a good mood if he had a buzz going, if not he was rather cranky, to put it lightly.

"You are too silly Helga Geraldine." His gray eyes were flashing at Helga, commanding her to fall underneath his spell, but Helga stood her ground.

Helga knew how to resist Tristan V. Nikolais—it wasn't an easy task, but she could do it if and when she needed to—which was exactly why he was so interested in her.

"If that's how you feel, I guess we could go with that description Tristan V—" Helga began, but was not able to finish saying Tristan's middle name because the raven-haired Sun King already had one of his delicate hands covering her mouth.

Tristan could say her middle name as much as he wanted but no one was allowed to say his, and considering only a few select actually knew what it was, it was hardly ever said.

Tristan _tsked_ and shook a finger at Helga using his free hand. "You and I both know I don't like anyone saying my middle name."

Helga had an overwhelming urge to bite his hand to get it off of her mouth, but knowing Tristan as well as she did, she knew that she actually bite his hand he would take it as something else. Helga resisted her urge; there was no need to give Tristan any ideas.

He was annoyed, Helga could see it flashing around in his gray eyes—he hated when others pushed his boundaries, he was the button pusher, not the button push-ee, he was in control and no one else.

"If I take my hand do you promise not to say it?"

Tristan really didn't like his middle name and Helga was one of the very, very few select who knew why. Tristan had told her once during an uncharacteristic drunken breakdown one night, but he vehemently denied any breakdown of any sort the next morning, after all Tristan V. Nikolais was not weak, therefore he never ever had any breakdown of any sort.

Helga gave him a look and Tristan laughed once again and withdrew his hand from her mouth.

"So? How's life Helga G. Pataki? I see that you've had a haircut, not a good one, but a haircut none the less." Tristan asked, no, demanded answers to his questions as he leaned in closer to Helga from across the table, his typical smirk in place on his lips.

Helga said nothing for a moment.

Could she really tell Tristan V. Nikolais what had been going on in her life and expect him to be understanding and comfort her?

As soon as she realized what she was thinking, Helga knew how much of an oxymoron it was.

There was no way for Tristan to care about anyone else except for himself. The only reason he would even give a fraction of a damn about anyone else was if the benefits for putting in the effort to care for that person outweighed the costs and energy. And in Tristan's world, that rarely happened.

Helga decided it was best if she went with the standard reply. "It's good."

"That's good to hear."

Then there was silence.

"Aren't you going to ask how I've been Helga Geraldine?" Tristan demanded with one naturally perfect eyebrow raised.

Helga snorted. "Why? There's no need to. You and I both know that it must be going good because if it wasn't you'd find a way to make it go exactly the way you want it to."

Tristan gave her another one of his hypnotic smiles. "You know me too well, Helga."

"Yes, and that's the problem."

Tristan opened his mouth to say something but the ringing of Helga's phone cut him off.

It was Alfred.

Helga answered her phone and the butler informed her that he was waiting outside, it would seem that the butler was used to her usual routine of stopping at her newly found, favorite café.

She hung up her phone and slipped it back in her jacket before looking up at Tristan's inquisitive face. He was curious as to who exactly was Alfred, and Helga being Helga, she wasn't going to give him a clue about who he was.

"I've got to go, my ride is here."

"Really?"

Tristan wanted to know more.

"Really."

Too bad Helga wasn't willing to give him any more information.

Helga stood up from the table and was ready to leave, but one of Tristan's strong hands latched itself onto one of her wrists, stopping her from leaving.

Helga simply raised an eyebrow.

Tristan stood up and moved close to her, bending his head down so his face was mere millimeters away from her own.

"What are you doing in three weeks on Friday?"

"Homework."

"It's a Friday night, you shouldn't be at home locked up with your school work," He moved his face in closer so that their foreheads were nearly touching before he smiled at Helga and she could the familiar feeling her legs beginning to jellify. Any normal person's knees would turn to jelly if they had Tristan smiling at them, he was temptation on legs. "You should be with me."

Everything about Tristan seemed to be made for the sole purpose of tempting others.

From the little way he crooked his finger to order people to follow him, the way his gray eyes seemed to burn like it was molten silver when he was amused, the way his black hair always fell perfectly around his face, the way his luscious lips were always in a smirk, just the way he moved—he didn't walk, he prowled.

Helga had come to the conclusion that Tristan was made for seduction a long time ago.

He looked at Helga with his burning gray eyes, smiling, and Helga very much so wanted to agree with him.

That was his talent; he could manipulate people into doing what he wanted.

It was a very good talent for someone who liked, no, _relished_ in being in control.

But even with him nearly hypnotizing Helga into doing what he wanted she still knew what he really wanted, after knowing him for four years Helga got to know his thought process pretty well. "You just want me around so I can come with you to _The_ Fight Night."

Tristan said nothing, he just quirked a corner of his lips and his smile turned into Tristan's customary smirk.

Helga was right and they both knew it.

"Thanks, but no thanks Tristan." Helga saw the look on Tristan's face, he was not happy, and when Tristan Nikolais wasn't happy the world wasn't happy. "Maybe another day.

Tristan's all too perfect face returned to its typical, not to mention deceptively docile features.

Anyone who knew Tristan at all knew that it was all an act.

Tristan got what he wanted, when he wanted it, and he was ruthless.

Perhaps that was why he and Helga got along so well back when she was in J. Quincy Lewis Junior High School.

Helga didn't know why she even bothered to give Tristan hope that she would show up at his Fight Night, but she did and there was no way to reverse it, Tristan would hold her to it even though she didn't want to be.

"Another day then… We should meet up some time later." Tristan said as he brought his face even closer in lieu of an almost kiss before pulling away and letting go of her wrist.

Helga calmly turned around and continued on her way out of the café as if nothing had happened. She kept her eyes straight ahead, not daring her self to look back at _him_ as she counted every step it took her to get out of the café to the safety of the car in her head. She calmly slipped into the back of the town car before she said hello to Alfred and apologized for making him wait. And as Alfred drove towards Upper Hillwood Helga could still feel her heart beating nearly three times as fast as it was supposed to, it felt as if her heart was trying to escape her chest cavity.

Helga was very much so screwed.

Helga's first reaction was to call up Phoebe as soon as she reached her room.

Yes that was the plan.

Call Phoebe, freak out on the phone properly, tell her everything that happened, and surely be reprimanded by the shorter female for giving Tristan V. Nikolais any signs of interests, enough so that Helga would stay away from _him_ before there was a repeat of junior high school.

But as Helga sat on her bed she could not bring herself to quickly dial the familiar seven digit number that had become ingrained in her brain, she just couldn't bring herself to do it, at least not over the phone.

She'd tell her at school, at least that was what Helga's new plan was.

It was better to do things in person, that way when she saw the murderous look on her best friend's face it would erase all the temptations that Tristan brought along with him.

Or at least a good majority of them.

Helga headed to bed extra early that night, not even bothering to go downstairs to enjoy the feast that Alfred had surely cooked up for dinner, not caring that it was only eight o'clock on a Saturday. She needed the extra sleep with all of the extra exertion she had been through.

In fact, Helga deserved the extra sleep after her overly stressful day.

Monday rolled around a little bit too quickly for one Helga G. Pataki. Her Sunday seemed to slip by with her noticing and before she knew it Helga was shouldering her hot pink messenger bag she exited the town car, thanking Alfred for the ride as he gave her a curt 'you're welcome' before driving off.

It was their tradition.

Helga made her way to her second floor locker close to Language Arts Wing of Crinshaw High School, organizing her things and preparing herself for what she knew was going to be a very long, very excruciating day.

Just as she pulled out her own addition of _King Lear_, the latest play that they were reading in Language Arts, the face of one Sid Delano Gifaldi appeared in the corner of her left eye and her _King Lear_ found itself on the floor of the second floor of Crinshaw High School.

Helga ignored him as she continued to organize her locker.

Sid continued to lean against the locker beside hers with his leather jacket clad arms crossed over his chest. "What, no _hello_?"

"What?" Helga snapped out of her daze, finally seeing her friend standing next to her, sending a glare in her direction. "When did you get here Sid?"

Sid raised an eyebrow at his friend before picking up the abandoned play on the floor and handing it to its rightful owner. "Are you okay Helga?... Is everything alright?"

Helga nodded slowly before she closed her locker. "… Yea… sure." Helga tried to smile, but it just didn't work out right. Instead of leading Sid to think that she was alright, Helga could see that her demented, not to mention warped, version of a smile only caused the worry lines on Sid's forehead to increase.

"Helga—" Sid began, giving her a look that told her that she was in for a lecture if she didn't stop him before he started. So, Helga did—interrupt him that is.

"Have you seen Phoebe? She's late today."

The lecture look from Sid's face disappeared. He probably thought Helga was fretting over Phoebe's absence… if only he knew that Helga was rather happy Phoebe wasn't around. It delayed the little tidbit of information that Helga was going to have to tell her, fully well knowing that the smaller female will no doubt try to kill once she told her… if Sid knew what was going on he would probably attempt to kill Helga, too.

Sid draped a leather clad arm on Helga's shoulder's not noticing as the blonde nearly tipped forward as a result of the new weight added onto her body. "Remember she told us that she has an appointment with a dentist… her sweet tooth got its revenge and now she needs a filling."

Helga smiled in relief, that meant more time for her to prepare herself, and Sid probably mistook the relieved look on Helga's face as relief for knowing where her best friend was… if only he knew.

"First period then, miss?" Sid asked as he withdrew his arm from her shoulders and offered it to her as gentlemanly as Sid Delano Gifaldi could.

Helga wrapped her arm in Sid's with a smile on her face; she still had a few periods to stall for time. "Yes, let's go off to the land of rock jocks, bimbos, and bubble brains."

Sid gave her a look for the insult that she obviously giving the _Golden Ones_ and their respective girlfriends, and friends, which Helga returned generously.

Their '_looking'_ game ended when Sid rolled his eyes and began to walk with Helga still attached to his arm. "What am I going to do with you, Pataki?"

Helga smirked at him before leaning closer to whisper into his ear, "Hopefully bend me over your knee and spank me."

Sid smiled down at her and Helga could something playful dancing around in his dark brown eyes. "Why, that's rather kinky, Miss Pataki."

"I know Mr. Gifaldi, and you love it."

Sid nodded his head in agreement. "Too true, Miss Pataki, too true."

The periods flew by and before Helga knew it, or wanted it, it was lunch time.

Helga had dreaded this period since first period when she had been informed of Phoebe's absence by Sid. When Phoebe hadn't shown up to their shared third period class, Helga rejoiced, feeling so relieved and happy she nearly broke out into a jig in the middle of class.

Fortunately for her class, and Helga, Helga was able to control her baser urges.

Helga did not take it lightly that Phoebe had not shown up for third period…that had meant a few more periods of not having to deal with a rather explosive Phoebe G. Heyerdahl… it was a time to rejoice and prepare for the battle that would ensue.

Unfortunately, no Phoebe also meant that she had Eugene as a lab partner.

Those ever so long forty-four minutes were definitely not one the greatest of experiences for Helga.

In fact, if Helga had it her way, Helga was sure that she was never, ever going to have another repeat of one of those incidents ever again… even if it meant accidentally shoving her lab partner out an open window when no one was looking.

Helga happily floated through her following periods, all the while knowing in the back of her mind that she was going to be confronting Phoebe sometime during the day, whether she wanted to or not.

Lo and behold the issue, what Helga had wanted to avoid all day presented itself at lunch.

Lunch was supposed to be a period of rest and relaxation. It was supposed to be a time where everyone can kick back and hang out with their friends before being thrown back into the ninth circle of hell also known as public schooling.

It wasn't supposed be a time where anyone would have to run from their best friend who is trying to kill them, hoping to high hell that their best friend somehow slipped on fry grease, knocking their heads to the ground hard enough that they woke up amnesia (or at least with the last five minutes erased from their memory).

Unfortunately for Helga, she knew that once she told Phoebe of the reappearance of _him_ that she would be facing the latter of the two possible lunch world. Especially once Helga told Phoebe that actually sat down and had a conversation with the heir of the Nikolais Empire.

Helga once again found herself in a situation where she was beyond screwed; in fact one could even go as far to say that Helga was screwed to the nth degree.

As routine demanded it, Helga got to the lunch ahead of time before her two friends. She checked out the lunch selection (Mystery Meat Monday—where the only mystery to the students of Crinshaw High School was how exactly the school district was still allowing their school to feed them shredded mats and Grade D meat under the false pretenses that it was meat) before she sat down at their usual table near the snack machines. The snack machines lines had already started to form—no one in Crinshaw High School their right mind actually ate the Mystery Meat, not even the freshmen dared to even gnaw on a one millimeter cross section.

Unless one had an iron lined stomach then the best course of action when the lunch ladies brought out the Mystery Meat was the snack machine.

It was only a few minutes after Helga sat down when the two doors on opposite side of the cafeteria open to reveal her two best friends. Helga counted the seconds in her head on how long it took them to reach the table—seven seconds—wishing, hoping that it could take longer, all the while knowing that it wouldn't.

Phoebe slammed her books down on the table, with a peeved look on her face—this did not bode well for Helga "I hate dentists… and parents."

Sid smiled as he smoothly slid into his seat. "Why what happened?"

Phoebe plopped herself into her seat with a huff and a roll of her eyes. "Well, to make everything lovely, the dentist gave me a speech about being too old to get cavities before turning on me in front of my mother. And now my mother has officially banned me from eating sweets. She even took out all of the candy and cookies from the kitchen and threw them in the trash." Phoebe crossed her arms over her chest.

"You're kidding right?" Sid asked, trying to hold back his laughter.

Phoebe glared at him as she reached into her brown lunch bag and pulled out a tomato sandwich, baby carrots and cut up celery with a side of ranch dressing, a bottle of water, and a tofu patty, throwing each one onto the table with vengeance, not caring that the ranch dressing splattered onto the table as she did so.

"Does it look like she's kidding?" Phoebe pushed the food away from her before she rested her head against the table. "This is worse than the time she went on that health trip back when I was in eighth grade."

Sid picked up a baby carrot and munched on it. "Well it's not like their around you all the time, it's not like you can't eat sweets when she's not watching."

Phoebe groaned. "I know that, I just don't want to have to be bothered to hide the wrappers and bags."

Sid laughed at Phoebe's misery as he reached for another baby carrot to eat.

"Shut up asshole."

Sid continued to laugh, only pausing to look at the frozen duplicate of Helga, which was wearing the clothes that he saw Helga wearing older, sitting in Helga's seat, except this duplicate wasn't acting like Helga. The Helga he knew would have long ago joined in on his teasing of Phoebe and her recent sweet-induced dilemma. "Helgs, are you okay? You're spacing out like you did this morning."

Helga was in the middle of nodding a yes, to give Sid some affirmation of her sanity, when Phoebe's head sharply rose up, as if it were attached to a trick string of some sort.

Phoebe looked at Helga with her dark eyes filled with concern, "Are you okay Helga? Is there something wrong?"

Even in the middle of facing a life without her beloved sweets, Phoebe pushed away her own problems and immediately began to care for Helga.

Helga immediately knew that she couldn't tell Phoebe anything.

If Helga dealt with the matter as quickly and quietly as possible, Phoebe would never have to know… yes that's exactly what Helga would do, she would get Tristan out of her life once again, by herself, quickly and quietly and everything would be alright.

She'd be fine.

She could do it.

She had done it before, she could do it again.

Helga nodded her head. "Yea I'm fine, I'm just kinda tired."

At least she would be fine as soon as she dealt with _him_.

Phoebe shook her head and tsked. "You really should get more sleep Helga."

Helga smiled. "And you shouldn't be eating so much candy, Pheebs. But I guess this whole cavity situation has already fixed this problem, right Pheebs?"

Phoebe's concerned eyes quickly narrowed as the shot death threats at Helga as Sid snickered as he ate a piece of celery—now there was the Helga he knew.

**(Y/L)**

Nope I still don't own Hey Arnold! I do own YL. But I do own the idea and concepts of YL, oh, and anything you recognize and think is not mine, is probably more often than not, not mine. Yeah, I updated a few days early, I edited this chapter a few times and its been sitting here, I couldn't wait much longer to update. I couldn't wait to fully introduce Tristan V. Nikolais, he's too much fun to write. Thanks to Drucilla Black, So thank you Demile, Crystal949, Gyrlfrend, Hellerick Ferlibay, and JessicaD Tigerlily-Nerf for reviewing YL. When anyone gets a review, its makes it seem like what they are doing is being appreciated. Please check out my original story on called So Much Space (http // www . fictionpress . com / read . php ? storyid 2210969), just take out the spaces. It's under the same name, S.L. Cipher. I just want ya'll to check it out and tell me what you think. If you like YL, you'll like SMS, its starting off at a normal pace, but its going to have its dramatic turn in a few chapters, so please stay tuned for that… so to wrap this up… PLEASE check it out for me, pretty please!

PS:

_Crystal949,_ To be honest there will be something, but as per usual with Helga, it'll be complicated.

_Hellerick Ferilaby_, Yeah, I just realized that I just used "Football Head" and I figured that as a rule I had to use it once before the story was over. I know Nikolai is a first name, it is the equivalent to Nicholas, but I made a slight mistake, Tristan's last name is supposed to be Nikolais, like Alwin Nikolais, not Nikolai. Now about Helga's troubles, they don't exist in her head. Helga is far from anti-social, she gets along quite well with people, except with _The Golden Ones_, with the exception of Sid, and their respective girlfriends and female friends. But she has a reason to, they all abuse their power, and Helga has a problem with people who abuse their power like they do. So calling my version of Helga anti-social is a misnomer. And about being submissive to Tristan, you can't say she is submissive until you know the back story. Tristan and Helga have a complex relationship, which will be seen in the next chapters. As I obviously hinted to in previous chapters, junior high school was a very difficult time for both Helga and Phoebe and lots of things happened during that time, things that they, Ian, Tristan, and probably a select few, know about. Helga did not invent her problems, they came into existence, they happened, she ran into them, but she didn't event them. Her sister and mother dying were not her fault and the depression that followed their deaths were not her fault, you may even go so far to say the fact that she burnt down her house wasn't her fault because she was obviously not in a stable state of mind and was pushed by Lexi and Bob. Those things were not invented by Helga. Sure some things that happened in junior high may have been Helga's, and Phoebe's, fault and they obviously had a lasting effect on both Phoebe and Helga.

JessicaD Tigerlily-Nerf, Now that you've really been introduced Tristan, you probably realize how much trouble Helga's in for, right?

**Next Chapter** _It Is Not Enough to Break… PART I_

S.L. Cipher– The Queen of Eville (No this not a spelling mistake but a higher echelon of evil, look it up in _The New Cipher Dictionary of Cipherous Lexiconography_) who will gladly accept all criticisms, advice, reviews, praises, and flames with a large Cheshire Cat Smile. Why the Cheshire Cat Smile? Why, because Cheshire Cat Smiles will always piss people off and Cipher loves pissing people off because it is exceptional fun... Especially when they try and attack you. Which is exactly why when one wields the Cheshire Cat Smile it is important that they must also wield a mace and a sword.

('·.¸('·.¸··¸.·'´)¸.·'´)

«·´¨·The Cipher ·´¨·»

(¸.·'´(¸.·'´ ¨ '·.¸)'·.¸.)


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